


Throw a Little Hot Rod Red in There

by FestiveFerret, SirSapling



Series: Art is Long and Life is Short [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actual Adult Communication, Alternate Universe, Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canonical Character Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Get Together, M/M, Possessive!Tony, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Quite a lot of it, Romance, Sadly Not a Chicken AU, Skinny!Steve, Steve Rogers is a little shit, relationships, tony is still iron man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirSapling/pseuds/SirSapling
Summary: Tony Stark was pretty sure that the absolute worst time to get asked out by an incredibly talented, good-looking artist, who likes to paint - and defend - Iron Man, is when he's dying of palladium poisoning.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking! Updates will be on Sundays. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“When I see a white piece of paper, I feel I’ve got to draw. And drawing, for me, is the beginning of everything.” - Ellsworth Kelly_

Tony set the blood toxicity meter down on top of his dresser. 23%. It was going up faster now. His gaze shifted to the open drawer below where his watch collection waited - a gleaming line of silver and gold. Choosing a watch for this gallery opening was probably going to be the most important thing Tony did all day, considering that the rest had been taken up with dodging Pepper’s emails, downing green sludge, and dying. He should find someone to give the watch collection to.

He normally would have dodged this invite too, but Pepper had come over to ask in person. She was still pissed about the Expo being a waste of time, so this seemed an easy, non-signing things way to appease her. A gallery show for starving art students was as good a place as any to throw around some money that he wouldn’t be needing in the afterlife, anyway. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do on a Thursday, so he might as well make the night worth his while - or worth some other people’s while anyway.

He grabbed a watch at random, then shoved the drawer shut, tucking the blood toxicity meter in his pocket, just in case. His black suit and red tie were another kind of armour he donned as he closed the last button over his throat, hiding the black lines that staggered their way up his body. It was late, but he put on a pair of dark shades anyway and made his way out of the tower and down to his car.

The gallery wasn’t busy. A lethargic crowd drifted among the exhibits, more interested in their champagne and conversation than the art, most likely friends and family here for support only. Pepper sprung up beside Tony, and he started away. “Jesus. Where did you come from?”

Pepper pursed her lips at him. “I’ve been here for half an hour, Tony. You should look at the art, you might find something you like here.”

The coat check girl caught Tony’s eye and he considered that he might after all. He tossed his jacket over the counter and winked at her, shoving nearly the entire contents of his wallet in the tip jar. She giggled as she handed him his chit. Tony turned back to the room. Nervous artists hovered near their exhibits, uncomfortable in their one formal outfit. One girl was in a pretty chiffon dress, but had missed the large swathe of green paint that marred the back of her calf. Tony sighed, snagging a glass of bubbly from a tray as it wafted past. This was Pep’s world, not his - and sure enough, she was chatting animatedly to the curator of the gallery as if they were old friends. Tony sidled up next to them, tipping his head to stare at what appeared to be a six-foot, pink marshmallow full of steaming coffee. Or something. He turned to check out the opposite wall and came face-to-face with himself.

Well, not himself, exactly. But a large, acrylic painting of Iron Man, in vivid red and gold. It was just the shoulders and head of the suit, but it looked out of the canvas, the eyes somehow glowing, even in paint, reflecting the blue light from the arc reactor in its chest.

Tony leaned forward and read the card pinned next to the painting.  _ “Hero.” _ He scoffed. “What idiot would want to waste their time painting that ugly mug?” He turned, grinning, only to find that Pepper was no longer at his side. Someone else was, though. A tiny blonde man with a scowl that probably inspired the “if looks could kill” concept was glaring at the painting with his arms crossed. Tony opened his mouth to ask how his amazonian assistant had turned into a disarmingly hot Tasmanian devil when the man spoke.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He bit out. Tony turned back to the painting to hide a grin, but the man didn’t see it, his eyes never shifting from the canvas. “How can you mock someone like that? In the face of overwhelming political pressure, he’s fought relentlessly to undo the damage his company did behind his back. He owned up to his mistakes, and now he’s protecting people, stopping wars, saving lives. I don’t care what anyone says, I believe in him. He’s a hero.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth a couple times, unable to come up with a retort, then turned towards the man. “Well, uh, thanks, I guess.” The other man looked at him for the first time, frustration melting into confusion and then shock.

“Well, shit.”

“Tony Stark,” Tony said, failing at holding back a laugh. He extended his hand and the other man took it, his grip surprisingly firm for such a small man.

“Steve Rogers.” It was Tony’s turn to raise an eyebrow. He turned back to the card next to the painting. “Yeah,” Steve went on. “So, I’m the idiot wasting my time painting your ugly mug.”

“Well, I love it.”

Steve shot him an incredulous look.

“No! I’m serious. That crack was mostly for my assistant who seems to have disappeared.” Tony looked around but Pepper’s red hair had vanished in the crowd. “She’s going to hate it when I hang it in the workshop. Not that she’ll hate your art, she just doesn’t think I need anymore ego boosts. She’s probably right.”

“When you…?” Steve stared at him. His cheeks coloured and he looked vulnerable in a way Tony hadn’t expected from him, considering how hard he had come out swinging.

“Oh yeah. I’m going to buy it. All of it. Maybe the whole gallery…” Tony looked around again, seeing if any of the other artists caught his eye. “What’s the deal here? You guys all starting out? This is like a - a showcase thing for -” Tony looked down at the pamphlet Pepper had shoved in his hand at some point. He probably should have read it, but he didn’t expect to end up in a conversation with one of the artists. He expected to point a hand imperiously at whatever he liked, drink too much champagne, and take the cute coat-check girl home with him.

“It’s our graduating class Fall Showcase,” Steve said. “We don’t usually - I mean - people don’t usually buy stuff…”

“It’s yours to sell though, right?”

Steve gaped at him. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, I’m rich and eccentric and I must have it. So name your price and then I’ll double it because you seem like the kind of person to undervalue your work. Where did Pepper get to anyway? And show me the rest of it,” Tony added, gesturing at the stretch of paintings in Steve’s section. “If you don’t mind.”

Steve stared up at him for a moment, as if calculating whether he thought Tony was making fun of him or not. Apparently, he was either satisfied that he wasn’t, or didn’t mind, because he nodded and said, “Sure.”

Steve took Tony down the row of his paintings, explaining why he’d painted each one, then the method and materials he used, when Tony pressed to know. Whenever Tony asked a question, Steve had this way of looking up at him through his lashes with this somehow soft-and-cocky-at-the-same-time half-smirk that was doing things to Tony’s stomach - and other parts. Steve was twenty pounds of sass in a five-pound bag and Tony found himself pretty quickly smitten. Once Steve relaxed into his art tour, he didn’t just tell Tony about the art, he dished dirt on his classmates, and talked a little about himself.

Bizarrely, in the span of two hours, Tony learned that Steve’s mom had died when he was young, that he was the oldest in his class, that his favourite ice cream was mint chip, and that he was fascinated by the history of New York architecture.

As they finished their discussion of the last painting, Steve trailed off. “Anyway… I’ve been talking about myself for about three years now. I’d love to hear more about you,” he said, almost shyly. Tony looked up and realized that most of the other gallery patrons had drifted away and he’d occupied Steve’s time for the whole showing. “Can I - get you a coffee or something?

In another life, or a longer one anyway, Tony would be swooping this kid up and taking him home for a night - or heck, a whole damn weekend - of fun. Steve had a fierce energy radiating off of him that Tony would love to have wrapped around his hips. But nevermind that Tony had a blue flashlight embedded in his chest, his new involuntary body art wasn’t something he really felt like sharing with a one night stand. And a one night stand was all Tony could offer, considering he was on a palladium-paved highway to hell. Steve was someone who might appreciate the unique aesthetic of Tony’s chest, but it wasn’t exactly fantasy fodder.

Besides, Steve was looking at him with this combination of adorable nervousness, bold cockiness, and genuine interest that made Tony want to do more than ask him to suck him off in the cloakroom while the hot coat check girl watched. 

“Uh, sorry. I wish I could - I really do - but work is kind of crazy right now and…” Tony finished the apology with his eyes. Steve nodded, and damn, he looked legitimately disappointed. And not in the way that most people did when Tony turned them down - like they’d missed out on a shot at their fifteen or something - but like he really had wanted to get to know Tony. “I - my time’s not really my own.”

“That’s alright. Just thought I’d ask.” Steve flashed him another of those cheeky grins, and Tony couldn’t help but smile back.

“Speaking of time, I’d better go.” Tony glanced at the watch he’d grabbed earlier and realized it was on Paris time for some reason. Anyway, it looked late. “You’re going to have that shipped to Stark Tower, right?” Tony pointed at the Iron Man painting.

“Yeah, I’ll pack it up for you when the show’s done. Thanks again, I mean, I really appreciate the -”

Tony cut him off with a gesture. “Don’t - It’s - Purely selfish reasons, I assure you.” Steve chuckled. “Pepper will have someone write you a cheque, or something. It was really great to meet you, Steve Rogers.” Tony held out his hand again and Steve took it, eyes locking on Tony’s.

“You too.”

Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his breast pocket, shot Steve one more considering look, then walked out of the gallery. He’d left his coat checked, but he really couldn’t be bothered to go get it. It was drizzling, but it wasn’t that cold, now that the wind had died down. He drove home recklessly fast and parked his Ferrari across three spots in the garage under the tower. 

He went back up to the penthouse and tossed the watch and tie back on the dresser, stripping off the layers of his suit. When his shirt hit the hamper, Tony stood in front of the mirror and traced the dark lines radiating out from the edge of the arc reactor, like traces on a deadly circuit board. It seemed physically impossible, sometimes, that he could love something and hate it so much at the same time. The reactor was vital to his survival and he was fiercely protective of it - it was a part of him - yet at the same time it was killing him, poisoning the blood that it helped his heart keep pumping through his veins. 

He thought about the guy from the gallery - his cheeky smirk, his long lashes, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his work, and the way he glared when challenged. Tony had nothing to offer someone like that. Staring in the mirror now, all he could imagine was the look of horror someone would give him - Steve would give him - if he saw the current state of his body. And it would only get worse.

But Tony had a reputation to maintain, a life to finish out. So when his birthday rolled around, he threw the party everyone expected of him: big, loud, and packed with hot women in short skirts and hot men with no shirts. Turning 39 was supposed to be one of those frighteningly old ones, the birthdays that made you stop and say, “Holy shit, I’m almost 40.” But Tony would never be older than 40, so instead, it felt painfully young.

Rhodey took the suit - probably for the best anyway. Tony had given him access ages ago, expecting that some day he’d be too sick to fight and Rhodey would have to take over, but this was better in a way. Maybe public opinion would shift to see Rhodey as their iron-clad hero and Tony could fade away before he actually faded away. 

A few weeks later, Steve’s painting arrived, carefully packed in a wooden frame and wrapped in plastic, toted by a burly man in a uniform. Tony gestured vaguely and the man ripped the wrapping off and hooked the painting over a nail above the kitchenette countertop in the corner of the workshop. Tony signed the pad, gave the man a $50 handshake and went back to his work.

The painting watched over the workshop, and Tony found his eyes wandering over to it whenever he needed to stop and think. It stood watch over Tony while he unpacked a crate of his father’s things he never knew he’d left, while he watched old movie reels and flipped through notebooks, while he turned a scale model town into a design for a new element. The painting stayed, even when the rest of the workshop was cleared out and shoved into hallways and balconies to make space for the new equipment. 

It watched until Tony miscalculated the angles of the prismatic accelerator and blasted a six-inch gash along one long wall of his workshop. He collided the beam with the core and saw his new element being born. He hit the button to shut down the accelerator, stunned by the blue glow of his invention, then jumped with an - extraordinarily manly - screech when the painting crashed to the ground behind him.

“Good, god.” Tony spun and glared at the offending canvas, which now lay on its side, tucked between the cabinets Tony had shoved out of the way and DUM-E’s charging station. 

“Congratulations, Sir. You have created a new element,” Jarvis informed him. Tony pushed his goggles up onto his head and jogged across the workshop to put the painting back up before DUM-E ruined it. He hooked it on the wall, but it tilted to the left. He shifted it. It tilted the other way.

“Excuse you,” he told the painting. Iron Man’s blank, intimidating eyes stared back, somewhat sideways. Tony shifted it several more times before getting frustrated and pulling it off the wall to see if something had broken the wire on the back. The wire was there, but so was something else: a white card stapled to the inside of the wooden frame.

_ “In case you change your mind about coffee,” _ it read, in smooth, curled letters. It was signed,  _ “SR,” _ followed by a phone number. Tony pulled the card off the frame and stared at it for a long time. It had been there for weeks and he’d had no idea. The blue glow from across the room dragged his attention away from the flirting artist and back to the ground-breaking science. He shoved the card in his pocket, and hooked the painting back on the wall, frowning as it tilted violently back to the left, then made his way back to the new core.

He plucked the core out of the casing with a pair of tweezers then dropped it into the new arc reactor base, ready and waiting for its power source. The casing closed around the core and Tony sighed with tense relief when nothing exploded. “Sir? The reactor has accepted the modified core. I’ll begin running diagnostics.”

Tony’s hand snapped to the reactor in his chest, the one slowly poisoning him, and stared down at the new one on the desk. This could be it. He could have solved it. And, honestly, fairly easily, if you ignored a few of the somewhat permanent modifications he’d made to his lab to do it.

“Holy shit.” His voice didn’t sound like his at all, rough and shaky. He shoved his hand in his pocket for his phone, to text Pepper, Rhodey, CERN - anyone - and instead found the stiff white card with a phone number on it for a cute artist he barely knew. The painting watched him crookedly from the other side of the room and before he knew it, Tony was typing the number into his contacts list.

_ T: Your painting hangs crooked. Is there someone I can speak to about that, some complaints department, or helpful Twitter-based customer support? - Tony _

Steve’s reply came almost immediately.

_ S: Maybe it’s your wall that’s crooked. _

Tony grinned. No doubt that was the little asshole he had liked so much.

_ T: That’s a good point actually. I did just blow some holes in the walls, and I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure what’s structural and what’s not. _

_ S: Uhh… don’t you live in a tower that’s like 100 stories tall? _

_ T: Yes. If you’re my neighbour, you might want to think about moving. Just saying. _

_ S: Thankfully I’m in Brooklyn. Why are you blowing holes in the walls? _

Tony was about to type back something distressingly flirty when his workshop started chirping.

“Incoming call with a blocked number, Sir.”

In the panic and confusion of Vanko’s attack on the expo, Tony completely forgot about Steve. He forgot about everything besides the threat of drones against the convention and the city. 

After the battle, while he and Rhodey and Pepper perched on the roof of a nearby building and watched the city scream with sirens, Tony’s mind drifted back to the workshop and the flirting he’d abandoned to fly here.

He took Pepper home once Rhodey had blasted off with what was now, apparently, his own suit, then crawled back down to his workshop to lick his wounds. His left arm twinged every time he rolled his shoulder out and there was something deeply unsettling happening low in his spine, but other than some bumps and bruises, it wasn’t so bad. 

His phone flashed violently on his desk, the technological equivalent of screeching for attention. He swiped it open.

_ S: Unless it’s a trade secret. _

Steve had continued their conversation. There was a gap of time before he’d sent another text.

_ S: Oh shit, I just saw the news. I hope you’re okay. _

Tony tapped out a reply.

_ T: Hey, sorry for disappearing. Work call. _

_ S: Haha, good god, that was crazy to watch. You okay? _

_ T: A little purple. A little concussed. Nothing out of the ordinary. _

_ S: Shit, really? _

_ T: Nah, I’m fine. Really. _

_ S: Good.  _

_ S: I mean, it was terrifying and horrible. But also pretty cool. _

Tony grinned down at his phone. The rest of the day zipped by in ice packs and texting with Steve. Tony found himself liking the artist even more the longer they chatted. He was witty and sarcastic in a way that made Tony feel like Steve didn’t care that he was a billionaire celebrity, and despite having no background whatsoever in any of the sciences Tony’s work was rooted in, Steve wanted to hear about all of it.  

And Tony and Steve kept it up over the next couple of weeks, shooting messages back and forth a few times a day. Tony learned more about Steve - that he was obsessed with baseball and deeply anxious about the direction the postseason was taking, that he was terrified of mice but thought spiders were fascinating, and that he let his roommate cut his hair which was why it was always kind of crooked. Tony felt the weight of the so far unmentioned coffee date offer hanging between them, but Steve didn’t bring it up and seemed happy to chat as friends. Not that that stopped either of them from flirting relentlessly.

On the Iron Man side of things, in some ways, being only a contractor for SHIELD was a relief. For all his bolster, Tony probably  _ wasn’t  _ ready to be part of the Avengers Initiative. Natali- Natasha hadn’t been that far off the mark. Even though he wasn’t dying anymore, he still found it hard to keep to any kind of routine, he got lost in a bottle more often than he should, and he rarely slept. Pepper tried to drag him out of his workshop, but now that he wasn’t trying to leave her with lasting memories of a fun, living-life-to-the-fullest, omelette-making Tony Stark, he had no trouble saying no. She didn’t hide her disappointment. She also didn’t hide her interest in who he was texting all the time, but Tony kept that to himself, for now. Pepper had been running his life for so long, had every thread of him wrapped around one of her beautiful, perfectly-manicured fingers, it was nice having something that was just his.  

When Tony stood up on the stage, lips threatening to twitch into a smile as Senator Stern told him, “he deserved it,” and pinned a medal to his chest, all Tony could think about was going home to text Steve about it. He skipped the fancy dinner after, preferring to blast through a drive-through on his way home and leave the groupies to a grateful Rhodey, so he could settle amongst his toys, in his sweatpants, with his phone out. 

_ T: Apparently I’m a national treasure. _

_ S: I never doubted it. _

U interrupted their conversation by bumping into Tony’s arm with a glass full of green sludge. Tony took it without thinking, realizing a moment too late that he didn’t need it anymore, but in the flurry of Vanko he’d forgotten to change U’s programming. “JARVIS, cancel program: Plant Life.”

Tony stared at the glass of chlorophyll that he no longer needed to drink and it suddenly hit him like a Mack truck - he’d survived. His hand came up to cover the glass casing of the arc reactor of its own accord. He’d almost lost so much and so much opportunity. And here was this guy - that he really liked and seemed to like him back - and he was what? Wasting more time?

Tony grabbed his phone and scrolled back down to Steve’s name, hitting call instead of text. Steve picked up almost immediately.

“Tony?”

“Hey, Steve. How are you? I was just wondering if that coffee was still a possibility, or if I’ve waited way too long and you’re already happily married with seven children.”

There was a moment of silence where something that felt a lot like disbelief radiated through the phone. “Ah, yeah, definitely still a possibility.” He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice now. “On one condition.”

“Hit me.”

“We make it dinner instead.”

Tony laughed. “What? The coffee accrued interest?”

“Something like that.”

Tony grinned across the workshop at DUM-E, then up to the painting that was still tilted to the left on the workshop wall. “You got it.”

**

Tony found himself nervous as he got ready for his date with Steve, and he realized with surprise that it had been ages since he’d gone on a real date. He’d picked people up - at bars, clubs, events, once, memorably, in line at the DMV, which almost made it worth it that he couldn’t pay someone else to renew his license for him. But real dates, arranged in advance, at a restaurant, and with someone where he liked more than the way they bit their lip when they looked at him (not that he’d mind seeing Steve biting his lip as he gave him the once over - not that he’d mind Steve biting  _ his _ lip at some point), that was new. Or old. Or something. It had been a while.

Steve seemed to be both someone who wouldn’t be comfortable in a fancy restaurant, and who needed someone to buy him a square meal, so Tony called his favourite hole-in-the-wall, family, Italian place and asked for the table in the corner where it was unlikely he’d get spotted by photographers. They still hadn’t quite realized that his tabloid-worthy party frenzy was over and he was having to dodge them more than he usually did.

The nerves were still setting his stomach rolling when he walked up to Steve’s apartment. But when Steve opened the door and grinned at Tony, they evaporated. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, still grinning. “Oh, shit, sorry. I just have to grab a few things. Come in?” He held the door wide, and Tony stepped inside.

Steve’s apartment was everything one might expect from a starving art student in Brooklyn. It was the size of a postage stamp for a doll’s letter writing set, and he still shared it with three other people, none of whom appeared to be home right now. It was tidy, but rundown in a strangely endearing way. Several easels were set up next to huge shelves covered in paints and supplies, in contrast to their lack of sufficient furniture otherwise. There was a small kitchen tucked against one wall, and a couch with a TV in the middle of the room. A few doors led to what Tony assumed where the bedrooms and bathroom.

Steve was wearing a neat, white, button-up shirt, and dark jeans that hugged his slim hips attractively and looked surprisingly new. Tony wondered, more chuffed than he should be, if Steve had bought them specially for their date. Steve ran around the small space, grabbing his jacket, wallet, and keys, the last of which were wedged between two couch cushions. Steve ended his circuit at Tony’s side, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you texted me.”

“Me too.”

“You know,” Steve said, as he rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, looking for something. “You never told me why you were blowing holes in your walls. Unless that was just a ploy to sound cool. Which, it worked.” Steve’s warm smile morphed into Tony’s favourite smirk.

“Ah, no, I really was doing that. I get a nice breeze in my workshop now. I was - uh - really sick for a while, there. Dying actually. And I needed to science my way out of it. Turned out to be big science.”

The smirk dropped off Steve’s face. “You were  _ dying?” _

“Yeah…” Tony squirmed under Steve’s intense gaze. “I mean, I’m fine now. But it’s why I said no when you first asked me out - why it took so long for me to ask you out. I had to, you know, create a new element and get some things sorted -”

“A new - Wait. You were dying when you came to the gallery?”

“Yeah. The early stages, but yeah.” Tony ran a hand through his hair, probably sending the carefully styled strands wild. “That’s why I was there - well I mean, Pepper was why I was there - but I wanted to throw some money at worthwhile causes before I kicked it. Can’t take it with you, right?”

Steve took a step forward, firmly into Tony’s space. He smelled like acrylic paint and shampoo and aftershave, and Tony leaned in, sensing there was something else mixed in but not able to name it. “You let me natter on about my art for  _ hours  _ and you thought you were going to die?”

Tony half-shrugged. “Well, yeah. I mean, I liked - like your art. And I like you too. So.”

Steve shuffled even closer, his eyes flickering across Tony’s face as he searched for words. His jacket hung, forgotten, in his hands. Steve was staring at Tony like he had just told him he’d invented a new element. Which actually -

Steve cut off Tony’s entire train of thought like a brick wall across the tracks by pressing his lips to Tony’s. Steve had to stretch up on his tiptoes to reach Tony’s mouth, which meant all his weight pressed against Tony’s chest, and Tony couldn't help but wind his arms around Steve’s waist, sinking into the increasingly heated kiss. Steve’s lips moved against his, warm and firm and sure. 

Then Steve leapt back like he’d been shot. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was -”

“No!” Tony slipped his fingers around Steve’s arm, tugging him close again. “That was -” His eyes dropped to Steve’s lips, wet and shiny, parted as he breathed heavily, breathless from their kiss. “That was…”

Steve surged forward again and this time his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck giving him the leverage to draw Tony even deeper. His lips parted, and Tony’s tongue flicked out against the gap. Tony gripped Steve’s hips and pulled him close, leaning over him. God, he was so small, Tony could just - his hands clenched on Steve’s hips, but he held back, trying to find his cool again, though it had apparently dropped down into his feet and left only heat in its wake.

Steve pushed even higher onto his toes and, not wanting to lift him straight off his feet, Tony stumbled backwards against the door. The thump shocked them both out of the kiss, and they stood and stared at each other for a moment, wide-eyed and kiss-wild.

“Well,” Tony said, oh so eloquently, and Steve laughed. An uncomfortable thought wormed its way through Tony’s gut, and Steve must have sensed the tension rippling through his body because he backed off, sliding his hands off Tony’s neck and taking a careful step out of his space. But that wasn’t good either, so Tony reached out and slipped his hand into one of Steve’s “Look, I know have this - uh - reputation, but I actually do like you and I’d like to go on this date and that was probably too fast, sorry, but damn you are good at that…” Tony’s train of thought derailed again, his eyes drifting back down to Steve’s mouth.

Steve laughed, his eyes twinkling until he rolled them. “I kissed you, you walnut. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.” Steve slipped his hand in Tony’s and dragged them out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Either the door locked automatically, Steve thought his stuff wasn’t worth stealing, or he was desperately hoping that someone would clear him out, because without pause he charged down the hall and out the door to the parking lot. “So where are we going?”

“Oh, I asked Lena to hold us a table at a tiny Italian place I like. It’s all carbs and garlic.”

“Well, good thing we got the kissing out of the way before, then.” Steve smiled at him again, that disarming, half-grin half-smirk that had Tony spinning, and wound their fingers together, slowing his pace so they were walking side by side instead of Steve dragging Tony around like a sled dog. “That sounds amazing.”

It was. Steve ordered lasagna, Tony ordered ravioli, and they got a bottle of wine to share. They started light - talking about Steve’s recent art projects, his classes, and Tony’s recovery from Vanko’s attack. By the time the bread was gone and their entrees had arrived, they started diving deeper.

“So...” Steve waved his fork at Tony. “Standard questions?”

Tony laughed. “I don't usually get that far, you'll have to remind me which are the standard ones. I don't think, ‘Are those real?’ is supposed to be one of them.”

Steve snorted. “Probably not. I meant, you know, family, exes, lifestyle, hobbies, that kind of thing.”

“I think most of that is on my Wikipedia but – uh –“ Tony ticked them off on his fingers. “None left, none recently enough to matter, outrageous, and, uh, flying a one-of-a-kind suit of armour around the world stopping illegal arms dealing. Oh and sudoku.” Steve grinned, his eyes twinkling, and it warmed Tony's stomach like a double shot of whiskey. “You?”

“Umm... also none left, unless you count my best friend Bucky, who might as well be my brother. He's serving in Afghanistan right now. Exes... really just one and you just missed her actually. My roommate Peggy - she was on her way out when you showed up tonight.” Tony recalled a sharply-dressed, dark-haired woman slipping past him in the hall. “We dated for a couple months, but it wasn't really working out and we didn't want to wreck our friendship so we broke up.” There was something squirming through Steve's voice, and Tony cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Her idea, not yours?”

Steve shrugged. “I mean, she was right to end it. Didn't make it any less sad.”

“When was that?” Tony asked, trying to keep it light and not make it sound like if it was three days ago he was going to be running for hills. Partially because he was solidly smitten now – to the point that he was actually using words like smitten – and he wasn't sure if running was even an option anymore.

Steve waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, that was like two years ago. But, yeah, no one serious since then.” He took a bite of his lasagna and chewed thoughtfully. “My life's pretty boring. Mostly working on my art. I'm in my last year, I graduate this spring, and I have no idea what I'm going to do after.”

“How old are you?”

Steve smiled again, self-consciously this time. “Twenty-eight. I couldn't go to school right away because I couldn't afford it. So I had to save up money and build up a portfolio. Took a couple years - and some really shitty jobs - to get there.”

“Good for you.” Tony poked at the ravioli on his plate. “So... I’m a little older than you.”

“I know.” Steve didn’t sound too bothered. “I actually  _ have  _ read your wikipedia.” He winked.

As the date when on, they found themselves drawing closer over the table as they talked, leaning in as if they could catch each other’s words faster the closer they were to the place where they fell off their lips. The restaurant was quieting down by the time they left. Tony paid, despite a polite struggle with Steve that he could tell Steve was actually relieved to lose, and they walked out into the dark street, pressed close, side-by-side.

The valet brought Tony’s car around and they zipped off, back towards Steve’s place. When Tony glanced over, Steve was watching him, smiling softly. The run-down apartment building pulled up all too soon and Tony cut the engine with a sigh. Steve didn’t move. The memory of their kiss, up in Steve’s apartment, filled Tony’s mind, and he leaned over the console to press his lips to Steve’s again. Steve hummed with pleasure, sinking into the kiss, his eyes fluttering closed. 

Tony pulled back, but not far, and Steve said, “Come up? My roommates are out tonight.”

Tony wondered if Steve had carefully engineered that. And he did want to go up - desperately - but some part of him revolted against reverting to type. He had the horrible fear that, no matter how much he liked Steve, if he went upstairs tonight, they’d have amazing sex, Tony would leave after a few hours, and he’d never call Steve again, because that’s what he’d done for so long. He wanted to do this differently - do it right. Because he liked Steve, a lot.

“I want to,” he said, carefully. Never having turned down an invite like that before, Tony wasn’t sure how to do it nicely. “But I - I kind of think we should wait. There’s a rule, isn’t there? Something about the third date?”

Steve chuckled and leaned in until their lips brushed again. “Really?”

“Yeah… I - I have a history of doing this all kinds of wrong. But I like you. I really like you. Is that okay? Unless you don’t want a second date, let alone a third.”

Steve sat back in his seat and gazed at Tony with soft eyes and a soft smile. “Of course I do. I officially think you’re a dork though, Tony Stark.”

Tony laughed. “Sorry.”

“Oh no. It’s definitely one of my favourite things about you. I still get a goodnight kiss, right?” There was something cheeky in his expression, but Tony nodded and leaned in. Instead of taking the kiss, Steve climbed over the console and settled over Tony’s lap, one knee on either side of Tony’s thighs. It was a small space, but he fit in it easily, tucking his heels under the steering wheel. Steve bent down and pressed his lips to Tony’s, hard and eager. They parted and his tongue darted out, the briefest brush, but Tony’s body thrummed in response. Blood was rocketing south, and Tony was starting to argue to himself that he could count the gallery as date one and the texting as date two so really this was -

Then Steve pulled back, smiled, and flicked open Tony’s door. He slipped off his lap into the street and leaned against the frame. “Thursday? I have late class tomorrow.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up again. 6?”

“Can’t wait. Goodnight.”

“Night.” Tony watched Steve jog across the street and up to his apartment, his heart going a mile a minute. Good god, that man could kiss. Tony was so fucked.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Painting is a nail to which I fasten my ideas.” - Georges Braque_

Their second date was even better than the first. They went to a postseason baseball game, and Steve turned into a ticking time-bomb of fury - it was amazing to watch. Tony had never seen anyone cuss out the umpire so much. It was all for the best they were up in the boxes and no one could hear him, because he was verging into getting-kicked-out territory. Tony spent the whole night eating hot dogs and laughing himself silly at how into the game Steve was. 

This time, when Tony dropped Steve off back at his apartment, they lingered for a long time, hands exploring each other’s sides and hips and backs. Tony drew a line of kisses along Steve’s jaw and down to his neck; he was instantly addicted. Steve’s neck was soft and warm and smelled exactly like Steve and the little noises he made were ramping Tony’s heart rate into overdrive. It was a long time before Steve managed to climb out of the car and say goodnight, and it was even longer before Tony felt clear-headed enough to start the engine and drive home.

The next morning, Tony was in his workshop, pretending he was working on the Mark VII, while actually thinking about Steve. He flipped the faceplate over and over in his hands and remembered the taste of Steve’s skin. It was going to be torture waiting to see him again. Tony pulled out his phone.

_ T: Movie this weekend? _

Before he got a reply, JARVIS’s voice filled the workshop. “Call for you from Colonel Rhodes, Sir.”

Tony glanced at the bank of holoscreens and Rhodey’s face was flashing there - he wanted a video call. “Sure, throw him up here.” Tony gestured, and the call connected. Rhodey was on his couch at home, the phone held out in front of him. “Hey, Buddy.”

“Tony. How are you?”

“Well, that felt pointed.” Tony picked up his faceplate again and tried to look busy and important. “How’s my suit?”

“Oh, you mean my suit? That one? Yeah it’s good. Could use a paint job, if you’re offering.”

“Does fluorescent pink work for you?” JARVIS threw up a picture of the War Machine suit made out in hot pink with little white bows all over it and Tony chuckled. He spun the screen so Rhodey could see it.

“Very mature.”

“It wasn’t me, it was JARVIS.”

“Even more mature. Blame it on someone else.”

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but the flashing of his phone notification light caught his eye. He picked it up.

_ S: Yes! Friday? _

“Tony Stark are you  _ grinning  _ at your phone right now?”

Tony snapped his eyes back up to Rhodey. “No.”

“You are.”

“Shut up, it’s nothing.” Tony waved his hand dismissively. “I have a date.”

“You have a  _ date?  _ With who?”

“You don’t know him.”

“I don’t know him? Over two decades of friendship and all I get is  _ ‘you don’t know him.’  _ Really, Tony? You’re grinning at your phone like a fourteen year old who just found out her crush checked ‘yes.’ Who is it?”

Tony sighed melodramatically. “He’s an artist. Hold on.” Tony waved his phone towards the screen and Rhodey’s image jumped from the the screen to his phone instead. He walked across the workshop and held it up towards the painting of Iron Man. “He painted that.”

“Ah, well. I can see now why you like him.”

Tony laughed. “He paints other things too. But he’s smart and funny…” Tony shrugged, trying not to blush. “And hot…”

“Wow, you really like this guy.”

“I do.” Tony slumped back in his chair and tossed Rhodey’s image back onto the screen. His expression had softened from affectionate mocking to just affectionate.

“First date?”

“Third.”

“Well, well.” Rhodey winked. “When?”

“Friday.”

“You’re not taking him to get drinks, are you?”

“We’re going to a movie,” Tony said, more than a little defensively.

Rhodey plowed on. “Cause I remember a certain eighteen-year-old who said he was twenty-one and took that girl - what was her name?”

“Susan,” Tony sighed. 

“Yeah, took Susan to The Randy Fox and got so drunk that he fell off his bar stool, broke his index finger, and a certain someone had to volunteer to take notes for him for six weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Tony grumbled. “That was like seven hundred years ago, when am I going to live that down?”

“Probably never.” Rhodey tipped his chin up as if he were thinking about it. “Yeah, never.”

“On that note, here’s a thing about Steve.”

“Ooo, it’s ‘Steve,’ is it?”

“Now who sounds like a fourteen-year-old? Yes, it’s Steve.” Tony rolled his eyes. “And, like, I can drink now, right? I’m a mature person who enjoys an adult beverage or seventeen, so I can hold my own, right? This guy is like, a hundred pounds soaking wet, solid six inches shorter than me -”

“You have a type, Tony.”

“Shut up, not the point. Anyway, he’s not a big guy, but holy shit can he drink. I think he drank two bottles of wine on his own at dinner and I have absolutely no idea where it went. He was completely unaffected. He must have a liver of steel. Or two livers. Or something. It’s amazing.”

“Or maybe you were too drunk to notice that he was too.”

“Nah, I drove, I only had a few glasses. Now, I want to get him drunk, you know. Like a challenge or a science experiment - how much will it take? As a percentage of his body weight...”

“God, you are utterly smitten. You’re completely gone. It’s gross. It’s indecent. I don’t want to hear about it, you get these hearts in your eyes every time someone says _ Steve.  _ Yup, there they go.” Tony laughed and shook his head at Rhodey, but he couldn’t resist the urge to look down at his phone again to see if Steve had texted. “Tony.” He looked back up and Rhodey was smiling softly at him. “Seriously, though. I’m happy for you man. He sounds awesome, I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks.”

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

Tony laughed. “When do I get my suit back?” 

They grinned at each other for a moment then Rhodey’s eyes flicked away from the screen. “Gotta go, Tony. Talk to you later. Good luck on your date.”

“I’ll call you and tell you all about it.” Tony smirked.

“You’d better not.” Rhodey shot him another smile then disconnected.

Tony picked the faceplate back up and poked idly at the screen connections, thinking of nothing but the way Steve’s legs had felt tucked tight on either side of his hips.

 

**

 

As the night of their third date approached, Tony found himself getting excited about the potential for “after” even though he’d been the one to impose the rule. But when Steve opened the door, his hair was half-sticking up like he’d been running his hands through it, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were hitched up around his ears.

Tony stepped in and immediately drew Steve into a hug, wrapping his arms even tighter when he felt Steve sink into his hold, burying his face into Tony’s jacket and breathing in. “You okay? You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks. And I spent so much time getting all pretty for our date,” Steve quipped back, still slumped in Tony's arms. He groaned. “Just a long day. I didn't sleep well last night and class was rough. Plus there's this woman in my figure drawing class and I just -” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “She bugs me.”

“We don't have to go out,” Tony said. “If you're too tired. Or if you don't want to. I don't mind.”

“No, I want to. Besides...” Steve leaned back to meet Tony's gaze and cocked a flirty eyebrow. “It's our third date today.” His hands danced along Tony's spine

Tony feigned ignorance. “Is it? I hadn't noticed.” He pretended to count on his fingers, and Steve smacked his chest.

Peggy came out of her room and smiled softly at the two of them. Steve stepped back a little and colour bloomed across his cheeks. Tony gave his hand a squeeze. “Fun night lined up?” she asked.

“Movie,” Tony replied, not sure how he was supposed to feel about her. They were friends, and it had been a long time ago that they had dated, but he still honestly felt a little jealous - probably of both things actually. She knew Steve better than he did, in so many ways. Tony tried to hide his discomfort, turning on the charming smile instead of tugging Steve against his chest and growling.

“Have fun!” She turned into the bathroom, and Steve hustled Tony out of the apartment. They made it halfway down the hall before Steve swore and spun around.

“Forgot my inhaler, hold on.” He darted back into the apartment, then reappeared a moment later, tucking his inhaler in his pocket.

“You have asthma?” Tony asked as the walked down to his car.

“Ah, yeah,” Steve blushed. “I don’t have the most stellar medical history.”

Tony sensed it wasn’t a popular topic so he changed it. Steve was clearly exhausted, so the movie was a good choice. He wound his fingers into Tony’s and rested their hands together on Tony’s thigh. Then he slumped down in his seat and was particularly slow and quiet for the entire movie. He blinked a little, like a startled deer, when the lights came up, and Tony chuckled.

“Enjoy the movie, Steve?” he asked cheekily.

Steve grinned back. “Loved it.”

“My favourite part was you snoring.”

Steve’s mouth dropped open in mock-offense. “I do not snore.”

Tony laughed, taking Steve’s hand and pulling him to his feet and out of the theatre. The air was autumn-crisp, and it made Tony feel giddy. Steve was still grinning at him so Tony tugged him close and kissed him, teasingly soft at first, then giving in when Steve pushed it filthier. They huddled together on the street corner, hands in each other’s coat pockets.

“Come back to my place?” Tony asked breathlessly, when they finally parted.

“Well, we’re going back to someone’s place, and I have three roommates at mine so unless you’re into that kind of thing…” Steve shifted, innocently enough to anyone watching, but it rubbed the jut of his hip against Tony’s thigh. Tony swallowed hard.

“My place it is.” He hustled Steve into the car and did his best to obey the speed limit - though it may not have been the actual posted speed limit he was obeying. It was the limit somewhere though. Somewhere fast.

Steve’s hand snaked across the console to rest lightly on Tony’s thigh, turning every red light into a battle of wills against grabbing it and shifting it higher. Nine and a half years later, Tony pulled into the garage under the tower, and the two of them stumbled into the elevator. Tony immediately pulled Steve flush against him, bending over to draw him into a heated kiss. The elevator doors opened, and Tony drove Steve backwards into his penthouse, pushing towards the bedroom, but Steve’s eyes went wide and he pulled away.

“Holy shit.” He gazed around the open plan design, getting stuck on the entire wall of glass that framed the city lights. “Holy shit.”

Tony smirked at him. “Did you come to admire the architecture, or me?” he asked.

“Well, it was supposed to be you, but damn, this is a nice apartment.” Tony laughed, then pressed up against Steve’s back while he looked out the windows. He dropped his mouth to Steve’s neck, nibbling his way across his collarbone, flicking his tongue out for a taste. He heard Steve’s breath catch, and the sound shot straight south.

Steve spun in his hold and slipped his arms around Tony’s neck, drawing him in for another kiss. “Oh, so now I’m more interesting than the architecture?”

“Nah, but the windows will still be here in the morning, right?” Steve asked lightly.

“Little shit.” Tony gripped Steve’s hips, wanting to tug him up until his legs wrapped around his waist, but not sure if Steve would be okay with that. Besides, there was one more deeply awkward conversation they needed to have. Tony urged Steve towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Steve took a moment to take that room in then stepped back in and brought his finger to the top button on Tony’s shirt. Tony circled Steve’s wrist with his fingers, stilling him.

“There’s - uh - something I have to -” Steve relaxed, leaning back, tilting his head in easy curiosity. Tony pressed on. “You know the - uh - light in Iron Man’s chest? You put it in your painting.”

“Sure. I always meant to ask you what it was for. I assume it’s some kind of power source, but maybe you just thought it was pretty.” He smiled.

“It’s - actually, yes. It’s Iron Man’s power source. But, it’s also - it’s mine too.” Tony’s hands went to the buttons of his shirt and Steve’s fell to his sides. “I don’t know if you heard about my kidnapping, but part of - part of what happened to me… was… well, this.” Tony unbuttoned the top three buttons and pulled the collar of his undershirt down. “It’s not pretty, I know. But it’s kind of my life support. I need it to live and - and not many people know about it, so. Yeah. Even if you end up hating me or something. Please… don’t tell the press about this one.”

“Good god.” Steve’s eyes fixed solidly on the arc reactor, his eyes wide and his mouth open. “It’s - I - Do you mind?” His hand reached out then hovered, a few inches away. Tony had the urge to flinch but he forced himself not to. He nodded. Steve moved very slowly, one finger gently running over the surface of the casing. “It’s beautiful. It makes your eyes do this wild, glowing thing.”

Tony burst into laughter - he couldn’t help it. “Oh my god, it _ is  _ the unique aesthetic thing. You want to draw me like one of your french girls, Rogers?”.

Steve pressed up into his space. “Yes. But that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.” Steve’s eyes softened as they dropped back to the arc reactor. He slowly worked his way through the rest of Tony’s buttons, then eased his undershirt over his head. Steve ran his flat palms over Tony’s chest, just skirting the edge of the reactor. Tony had been holding his breath since Steve’s hands went to his buttons, and he let it out suddenly in a sharp huff. Steve’s eyes snapped to his. “It keeps you alive?” His voice was a mix of fear, curiosity, and sadness.

“Yes.”

“I’ll never tell anyone. I promise. No matter what.” He kept his eyes locked on Tony’s as he spoke. Then they dropped down again. Then even lower, to trace the edge of Tony’s waistband. He followed his gaze with a stroke of his thumb, and Tony shivered. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Tony hooked a hand around the back of Steve’s head and pulled him close, huffing out a noise of frustration when his tugs at the hem of Steve’s shirt meant they had to part to bring it over his head. They found each other again quickly, and Tony drove Steve backwards roughly, giving him enough time to fumble Tony’s pants open, until his legs hit the bed and he stumbled onto it, catching himself with his hands. Tony didn’t pause, driving Steve up onto the bed, still claiming his mouth, and crawling up over him until Steve was spread out beneath him. 

Steve’s knees came up on either side of Tony’s hips and squeezed. Tony thrilled at the way his body covered Steve’s, the way Steve curled into him until Tony was everything between him and the rest of the world. It made Tony feel wild and bit primal; he wanted to wrap his fingers around Steve’s arm and squeeze until it bruised and take him apart gently with his tongue at the same time. Tony’s mind was buzzing with need. He wanted so much from Steve it was like an itchy-hot fire under his skin, driving him to push and grip and rut, and he had to keep reminding himself to slow down. He worked his way along Steve’s jaw, drawing a line of biting, bruising kisses behind his ear and down his neck. Steve’s hands curled into sharp nails which scratched over Tony’s scalp, furrowing through his hair. 

Steve’s hand dropped to Tony’s open pants, his fingers tucking in the waistband of Tony’s boxers and teasing the sensitive skin they found there. And Tony usually let his partners drive because, if he was honest with himself, he was a little scared of letting go completely and upsetting someone. It had been so long since he’d been with someone that he’d known for more than an hour, and the trust of knowing Steve - however new it was - rushed through him and drove him a little wild. He snapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, tugged it away and pressed it into the sheets, squeezing just this side of too hard. The second he realized what he’d done, he froze, but underneath him, Steve shifted, sighed and  _ melted.  _ Steve became pliant and soft in Tony’s hands, sinking into his over-tight grip, his eyes drifting half-shut even as his hips twitched up. 

“Fuck,” Tony huffed out. He shoved Steve even farther up onto the bed so he could kiss and bite his way down Steve’s chest. He ran his tongue along the ridges of Steve’s ribs and scraped his teeth over his belly to the waistband of his pants. Steve arched into the touch and Tony looked up for permission before pulling them down, but what he saw stopped him with a hitch of his breath. Steve had one hand fisted in the sheets and the other arm thrown over his eyes. His lip had been worked pink and puffy between his teeth, and a small sound leaked out with every breath. “Steve,” Tony said, gently, “is this okay?” He tugged a little at Steve’s pants.

“Fuck yes, please,” Steve whined. “Seriously, anything.”

Tony chuckled at the blanket consent born of desperation, and tugged Steve’s pants down over his hips, following them with his mouth as he explored the jut of Steve’s hipbone. Tony’s mind snapped into sharp focus, completely occupied with nothing but Steve. The hundred and five projects he had laid out in the workshop downstairs disappeared in the face of the writhing body underneath him. All the background noise, the constant buzz of his mind at work was gone once he had Steve naked and begging to be touched.

He skated a firm palm down Steve’s side, feeling the bump of each one of his ribs. Steve was so delicate, put together with fine precision like a complex circuit board, and it would take fine precision to take him apart again. Tony traced the details of Steve’s skin, wire-thin veins carrying jolts of electricity across Steve’s skin and straight into Tony’s core. Steve was rock hard and leaking against his belly, and Tony ran his tongue up the underside of Steve’s cock, making Steve yelp and snap his hands back to Tony’s hair. His tongue continued its path, over the head to taste the precum pooled below Steve’s belly button.

Tony wanted to say, “You’re a marvel of human engineering,” but he figured that would sound weird so he settled for, “You’re a fucking work of art,” and was rewarded with a slow blush blooming across Steve’s cheeks.

“I really hope you want to fuck me,” Steve said, his voice barely more than a raspy whisper. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, but I really hope you do.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down to where Tony was settled between his legs. 

Tony had planned on spending a few days figuring out exactly how he could make Steve sob with just his tongue on his cock, but Steve’s idea sounded, quite frankly, like the best idea Tony had ever heard in his life, so he crawled his way back up Steve’s body, hooking one of his arms under Steve’s knee as he moved, bending it up under his body and spreading Steve open. “I really want to fuck you,” he replied, burrowing his face in Steve’s neck.

Steve groaned as Tony manhandled him into position. “I barely made it through class, thinking about you - about this.”

Tony’s body helpfully informed him that that was the most amazing thing it had ever heard, and he had to agree. “Fuck, Steve. What were you thinking about us doing?” Tony slipped his hand between the sheets and Steve’s lower back, easily supporting his weight so he could stroke his way down his spine and over the curve of his ass.

“This. You - you touching me,” Steve gasped out, arching into the touch. “I want you to fill me up, kept thinking how you’d make me feel - how good you’d make me feel. Please…”

Tony’s arms clenched around Steve, no doubt holding him painfully tightly, but Steve merely curled into Tony’s hold and whimpered. Tony’s fingers slid along the cleft of Steve’s ass, brushing over his hole. Tony’s cock twitched, eager to be involved, and Tony had to suck a lungful of air in against Steve’s shoulder, because “fuck foreplay” wasn’t a very generous stance to take. He released Steve for a moment, groaning at the little noises of loss Steve made, and rifled through the drawer next to the bed until he came up with lube and a condom.

It took him a while to get his fingers slicked because one hand insisted on petting over Steve’s chest and down his thighs, and his mouth couldn’t seem to stay away from Steve’s neck. “You want me to fill you up?” he asked. He could feel Steve’s nod against his chest, and he dropped his hand back down to tease around Steve’s hole. Steve pressed a hand to either side of Tony’s face and drew him back in for a heated kiss, gasping out of it as Tony pressed his finger into Steve’s body up to the knuckle.

“Yes, More.” Steve brought their mouths together again, but he could only pant and moan against Tony’s lip, chanting, “More,” like a soft prayer, until Tony eased in a second finger. 

Tony curled his fingers inside Steve, eyes pinned to his face, reverse engineering Steve’s body based on his gasps and cries, to find the best ways to bring him to the edge. And Steve looked halfway there already, puddled underneath Tony, save for the two fists he had dropped down to press against Tony’s chest. Steve’s cock twitched and leaked on his belly and Tony thought, with no small degree of awe, that Steve could probably come untouched. Relentlessly, Tony’s mind supplied him with a thousand opportunities for watching Steve pulse over himself with a hand on him - licking him open, fucking him up against the wall - oh god  _ picking him up against the wall -  _ just like this… Tony moaned, half with heat, half with frustration and pressed his hips forwards against Steve’s thigh.

“Yes yes yes,” Steve murmured. “Come on, I’m ready, please.” Steve’s fists turned to scrabbling nails, scratching over Tony’s nipples and teasing the hyper-sensitive skin around the reactor and,  _ fuck,  _ that shouldn’t be that hot. It took a herculean effort to get the condom package open, with Steve mewling and gazing up at him, pupils blown, through those damn lashes. As soon as he had the condom on and slicked with lube, Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s back and tugged him down the sheets, pressing him against Tony’s hips, then curling over him until he was trapped in the cage of Tony’s body. Tony’s hips kicked forward of their own accord, and the head of his cock caught on the slick edge of Steve’s rim.

“Oh my god,” Tony held Steve even tighter, sinking into Steve’s heat as his hips rose up to draw Tony in deeper. “God, you feel so good.” 

Steve groaned, his face pinched with pleasure, but a little overwhelmed, so Tony stilled, waiting, letting Steve adjust to him. Steve’s eyes fluttered open and met Tony’s, soft and open, and heart-stoppingly trusting. “You can move,” he said, his hands curling around Tony’s sides to rest on his lower back.

Tony took a breath and rocked forward, then pulled back. Steve’s hands clenched against his skin, but his breath hitched, and his lip tucked between his teeth. Tony bent forward and claimed those lips himself, pressing his tongue between them and tasting Steve. He pushed forward again, and Steve let out a hitching curse, curling his spine and opening his hips wider as Tony settled deep inside him. Tony’s pace quickened as Steve relaxed under him. Every slide into his body seemed to push Steve deeper into a lax, easy space, where his eyes drifted shut and his breath stuttered out of him in happy, little sighs. Tony drew him up, as small as he could, pushing Steve’s knees up towards his chest and using the hand that wasn’t bracing him on the mattress to pull Steve up to meet every thrust.

When he found the angle to hit Steve’s prostate, his eyes snapped open and his hands twitched open on Tony’s back. “Fuck, yeah. Like that. I can come like that.” Steve drew his knees even higher, until he was almost folded in half under Tony’s weight. Their movements became more frantic, Steve letting Tony move and guide and work him into place until his hands were convulsing open and shut and he couldn’t speak - just moan out half-curses - and his eyes were screwed tight, head thrown back on the pillow.

Tony watched him fall apart, awe blooming in his chest. It was so fucking beautiful, everything he thought it would be and more. He wanted to know every way to make Steve Rogers make that goddamn face. He thrust deep into him, hitting the right angle, then, too desperate to see if he could get him all the way there with just his cock, Tony pushed one of Steve’s legs out to the side and wrapped his hand around his cock. He was so hard, his balls already pressed tight against the base and after only a few strokes, in time with the thrust of his hips, Steve curled tight, his eyes shot open and he cried out, “Fuck, I’m coming.” Tony watched as Steve pulsed white all over his own chest, fucking him relentlessly through his orgasm. When it was over, Steve collapsed, instantly weak and puddled, and Tony wasted no time in gathering him back into a tight ball, curling over him and pounding into him with renewed vigour. 

Steve cried out every time Tony hit his prostate again, his oversensitive cock trapped against Tony’s belly surely just this side of painful, but Tony was wild with need and Steve was open and taking it earnestly, begging Tony to use him and fuck him and fill him up with his words and his body and -  _ fuck  _ his eyes. “Please please,” Steve whispered, sounding lost, sounding like he didn’t even know what he was begging for, but he needed something else, something more.

Tony wrapped both arms behind Steve’s neck and used the leverage against his shoulders to hold him still while he pressed into him. Hot pleasure was building low and deep, and every thrust brought him closer and closer to an edge he was desperate to tumble over, while at the same time, never wanting this to end. But as the edge approached, he had no choice, he needed to let go. Steve whispered, “Please fill me up,” one more time, and that was all it took for Tony to tip over, squeezing Steve so close he could feel his chest heave, trying to draw breath and unable to, so tight that Tony wasn’t sure where his body ended and Steve’s began.

Tony eased back and heard Steve suck in a sharp breath. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered into Steve’s chest, trying to find his own breath, his own balance… his goddamn hands again.

“Shh,” Steve smacked his hands awkwardly against Tony’s back. “Don’t - don’t sorry. That was - holy shit. Mmmm.” Steve broke off into a sigh, sinking even softer against Tony’s body.

Tony pressed his forehead to Steve’s chest, and he smelled like sweat and sex and still like paint, and they did nothing but breathe for a moment. They both groaned when Tony eased back, sliding free of Steve’s body. “God…” Tony pulled the condom off, tossed it aside, and slumped onto the bed beside Steve. Steve immediate turned, curling up against Tony’s side, his arms winding around Tony’s waist and his face pressing to Tony’s shoulder. He had a soft, silly smile on his face, and didn’t seem to care that he was still covered in lube and come. 

“Here,” Tony said, halfheartedly, “let me. -”

But Steve just tapped his chest and whispered, “Shhh.” The tapping morphed into drawing lazy loops and swirls on Tony’s skin, and Tony let out a sigh and tipped onto his back, pulling Steve up onto his chest as he moved. Steve was so light, Tony barely registered his weight, but he was also warm and soft, and his limbs wound around Tony, hooking an ankle around his calf and a knee up over his hip, both arms around his waist. It was comfortable and cosy and dreamlike in its peacefulness.

Tony’s body was too spent to get excited again, but his mind was a whirlwind, remembering the way Steve had melted under him, giving into Tony’s control, letting himself be moved, held, caged. Steve awakened something in him - something needy and primal and possessive. It was a little uncomfortable, being so overwhelmed by those feelings after only the third date, but damn, that had been some good sex.

“That was incredible,” Steve said sloppily against Tony’s skin, as if he could read his mind.

“Mmm, it was,” Tony’s voice was rough and hoarse from his sharp pants and guttural cries. 

“I should - uh - I should go?” Steve asked uncertainly, and Tony’s arm automatically curled tighter around his shoulders. 

“You don’t have to.” He turned to press his face into Steve’s hair. “I mean, if you’d be more comfortable at home, I can give you a ride, no problem, but you don’t have to.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, and Tony hoped that he would say he’d stay. “I  _ should  _ go, I have class tomorrow, but I really, really want to stay, so fuck it.” He stretched out, then flopped back down on top of Tony.

Tony chuckled. “I can have someone drive you to class tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Sure, why not?”

“It just seems kind of… decadent. Like, I can just take the subway?”

“It’s no trouble. I have a whole crew of people just waiting around for the opportunity to drive me somewhere. It’ll give them something to do.”

Steve laughed and kissed his way lazily across Tony’s chest. He was so soft and close and snuggly. Tony felt a pang of guilt for all the times he’d shot out of bed the second sex was over, usually halfway into his clothes before his partner had even realized he wasn’t beside them anymore. Because this was nice, this was… perfect, really. And the thought of Steve leaving… was the opposite of that. 

Tony shifted Steve off of him, pressing a kiss to his forehead before slipping out of bed and padding into the ensuite bathroom. He cleaned up and came back with a warm washcloth that he handed to Steve. Steve was stretched out on the bed, on his side now, watching Tony move around. “Worth the wait?” Tony asked with a cheeky grin.

“And then some.” Steve smiled back, one corner curling up into that heart-stopping smirk. 

Once Steve was cleaned up, Tony tossed the washcloth in the general direction of his hamper and crawled back onto the bed, looming over Steve on his hands and knees. “You do things to me, Rogers…”

“I sure will,” Steve promised, rolling his hips suggestively.

“Geez, slow down. You young thing, you.”

Seve laughed again and slumped down on the sheets, his smile softening. “Don’t worry. After that? I won’t be up for another round for a while, young thing or no.”

They curled up together, Tony pulling the blanket up over them and waving his hand until JARVIS turned off the lights and closed the blinds.

The next morning, Tony woke up alone, but Steve’s side of the bed was still warm and there was a gentle humming floating through the door. Tony grabbed a robe and padded out into the living room to find Steve on one of the couches, one of Tony’s notepads perched on his lap and a well-chewed pencil clamped between his teeth. He was rubbing at the sketch with the flat of his thumb, his brow furrowed in concentration, and he was humming absentmindedly around the pencil.

Tony stood still for a moment, enjoying the view. “Good morning.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up and he grinned, dropping the pencil from his mouth and catching it with one hand. “Good morning.”

Tony leaned over the back of the couch and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

Steve gestured towards the couch where he sat. “Sorry. The light was really pretty and I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“That’s alright.” Another kiss, deeper this time, his whole body warming at Steve kissing back, at Steve still being here. At Tony wanting him to be. “Did you not sleep well?” He started ordering new beds in his head. He could get like thirty, and have Steve try them all out to see - they could try them out together…

“Oh no, quite the opposite. I think I slept so well my body did it in half the time it usually takes. My apartment is really loud at night, I wake up all the time.”

Tony frowned. “That can’t be good for you.” Steve just shrugged. “Well, guess you’ll have to stay here more often, then.” Tony winked, and Steve broke into a beautiful smile again. It was only the thrumming need for caffeine, reminding Tony that it was morning, that pulled him away from getting lost in that smile.

“Coffee? Or - uh - food? Do you eat in the morning? I don’t really… Or sometimes I do… but I must have something here...” Tony pulled open the fridge.

“Coffee is good,” Steve said. “I don’t eat first thing. Gives me a tummy ache.”

“But you have coffee. And it doesn’t?”

Steve shrugged again, and Tony suspected that it was actually an excuse born out of too many years with not enough food to afford breakfast.

“Well. Man after my own heart.” Tony started the ritual of making coffee. He glanced at the clock - 8:30. “You said you have class? Not that I’m kicking you out. Just wondering how much longer I get you for.”

Steve followed his gaze to the clock and he sighed. “Yeah. It doesn’t start until 10:30 today, but it’ll take me a while to beat my way there on the subway so I shouldn’t stay too much longer.”

“Hey, J? Can you make sure someone is here to pick up Steve in time to get him to class for 10:30? And give us a ten-minute warning.” Steve appeared at his side, and Tony raked his eyes over his body - he was only in his boxers. “Make that a twenty-minute warning.”

Steve opened his mouth, a question forming on his lips, then startled when the room replied. “Of course, Sir.”

“What the fuck was that?!” He spun around, trying to figure out where it had come from, and Tony laughed.

“That’s my AI, JARVIS.” He found some bread and shoved it in the toaster, filling two mugs with the fresh coffee and gesturing towards the milk and sugar. Steve added an appalling amount of sugar, but left it black.

“Your... what?”

“He’s like a robot butler combined with a nanny combined with a mouthy asshole. He nags me worse than Pepper and Rhodey combined but he also orders the coffee so I love him.”  When the toast popped, Tony shoved one slice in his mouth and put the others on a plate, pushing it into Steve’s arms. 

Steve looked a little shellshocked by that and kept peering around and behind him as if he expected to see The Robot B9 hovering in the corner or something. When nothing appeared, Steve seemed to accept it, shrugging and breathing in the scent of his coffee with obvious pleasure. Tony started over for the couch Steve had been sitting on but Steve spoke up, not moving from the kitchen.

“Hey…” Steve looked uncertain all of a sudden.

“What?”

“Can I - can we… I’ve heard so much about your workshop and what you build… can I see it? It’s okay if I can’t. If there are trade secrets or whatever, but I’d like to.” Steve picked up a slice of toast, probably just to give his hand something to do, and took a bite.

“Of course,” Tony said around his toast. He topped up the few sips of coffee he’d already taken and led the way down to the workshop. “You can say hi to your painting.”

Tony barrelled into the workshop flicking his hand to wake up his various screens and devices. DUM-E and U trundled over. “Go meet Steve.” He gestured, but Steve wasn’t behind him, he was in the doorway, eyes wide, toast forgotten halfway to his mouth.

“....Wow.”

Tony felt self-conscious for the first time in a long time. Steve dropped his toast back down on the plate and set the plate and his mug down mindlessly. He stepped forward, away from the door and walked down one of the aisles of tables. He reached out and his fingers floated over soldering irons and circuit boards and big hunks of metal that were planning to be pieces of the future Mark VIII when they grew up. DUM-E and U trundled along behind him, and eventually, he turned and held out a hand towards them. DUM-E gently pinched Steve’s hand in his claw and shook it - up down, up down - three times. Steve laughed.

“So yeah…” Tony said, unable to stand the silence anymore. “This is the workshop.” He shrugged.

“This is fucking incredible Tony. This is like - like from a movie - or, I dunno, NASA.”

Tony laughed. “My budget is like four hundred times that of NASA.”

The Mark VII lay, disassembled, on a worktable and Steve turned, drawn to it. His hand raised again. “Can I -?”

“Yeah of course, just watch the assembly relays, they’re a little - uh - ‘touchy’.”

“I don’t know what that is.” Steve reached out and stroked a piece of the arm plating and it snapped together into an arm shape. He yelped and jumped back.

“That’s what that is.” Tony guided Steve away from the table. “Maybe touch something else. Or - look! Your painting.” Tony pointed, and Steve followed his gaze.

“It really is crooked,” Steve said in utter disbelief.

“Well, yeah. Did you think I was lying?”

“I - I thought it was a line.” Steve turned to face Tony. “Are you - fuck - were you not flirting with me?” Steve was turning a gorgeous shade of red, and Tony seriously considered fucking with him for a while, but he took pity on his wide eyes and laughed, shaking his head.

“I was one hundred percent flirting with you. That’s how I found your number. I took it down to see why it wouldn’t hang straight.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief then flashed him a coy look. “Well, then, I’m glad it’s crooked.”

“Me too.” He bent down and pressed his lips to Steve’s. Steve shifted forward, leaning into Tony’s space, one hand winding in the fabric of Tony’s robe. He pulled away with a smile, then crossed the workshop confidently. He climbed up on the counter and took the painting off the wall, peering at the wire on the back. Satisfied that it wasn’t twisted he hooked it on the wall, centered it and leaned back. It stayed straight, but only for a second, until, with a small squeak, it shifted to the left again.

Steve’s expression sharpened into a scowl, and Tony saw a battle forming that likely wouldn’t be over before Steve had to go. And he wanted more time to himself. He reached up and grabbed Steve around the waist, pulling him off the counter until he tumbled into Tony’s arms with a yelp of surprise. Tony eased him to the floor, kissed him, then marched him across the room, back towards the bots and away from the painting. “Leave it, Steve, it’s still the straightest thing in here.”

Steve came to the tower a lot over the next few weeks. On days when he finished class early, he’d make his way to the tower and JARVIS knew to let him up into Tony’s private floors, even if Tony wasn’t up in the penthouse after work yet. He would sketch while Tony worked, then they would stumble upstairs, filling the elevator with discarded clothing. Tony felt that same primal energy well up inside him every time had Steve bared beneath him, and he spent hours disassembling Steve into moaning, broken, pieces, before surging up to find his own release.

Steve met Pepper properly, and they got on like a house on fire which was deeply troubling. Tony also got to know Steve’s other roommates, though mostly in passing. Gabe and Jim were also art students and seemed to do nothing but get charcoal all over the apartment and argue with each other.

Tony was deep in the depths of the Mark VII, one afternoon, when Steve stormed into the workshop with a raincloud over his head. He glared at the glass door as if he was disappointed that he couldn’t slam it. Tony spun in his chair, watching him. Steve stomped over to the couch and dumped his bag on the floor, then scowled at it too.

“You know, that was the look that first hooked me,” Tony said with a smirk, leaning back in his chair and opening his arms. “Scream or hug?”

Steve scowled at him now, then sighed. “Scream first, then hug?”

“Alright.” Tony gave Steve a go ahead gesture. “Scream on.”

“So there’s this woman in my figure drawing class - I think I’ve mentioned her before.” Tony nodded, and Steve went on, “Well, she has a kid which she will not shut up about, which would be fine, but she always tells me that I remind her of him - even though she is  _ younger than me  _ and her kid is  _ eight.”  _ Steve took a deep breath. “She calls me ‘cute’ and always grabs my easel for me even when I’ve told her not to. Today, I got there a little early and I go to grab my easel from the corner and she  _ ripped it out of my hand _ and set it up for me. It just pisses me off so much. She thinks I can’t do anything for myself. She actually patted me on the head once. I don’t need her to take care of me just because I’m fucking small and short - Argh!” Steve stomped across the workshop, his usual seat abandoned, and collapsed on Tony’s lap, burrowing his face into his chest. “Mmmm,” he hummed. “Better.”

But Tony felt worse. He thought about the way he liked Steve to be small, to be trapped under him, weak and puddled and whimpering. He liked when Steve gave in and let Tony hold him and move him and control things. How was that any better? Was Steve pretending to like the way Tony acted in bed because he didn’t want to hurt his feelings? And maybe… maybe this was his subtle way of trying to tell him that.

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and held him close, his mind going a mile a minute, trying to find a way to ask, or a way to show Steve that he knew he was strong and capable, he just liked getting to drive, he liked the way Steve fell apart one piece at a time, giving everything to Tony, putty in his hands. 

But what if Steve didn’t like it?

Tony’s mood sunk lower as Steve brightened, and by the time Steve had settled back on his couch with his homework and a smile on his face, Tony was in a proper funk. He hid it from Steve by diving back into his tinkering, asking JARVIS to crank some music so they could both power through what they were working on for a while. But the downside to having a genius mind was that there was always some unused part of it ready to hop to attention and properly gnaw on some worry or anxiety until it was a slobbery, churned up mess.

They had dinner, then Tony asked if he could take Steve home, citing tiredness and having to suffer through a meeting early the next day. Steve didn’t seem to mind, giving Tony a kiss full of promise and a dirty smirk before climbing out of the car and trotting across the street to his apartment. Tony sat in his car, double parked on Steve’s street, for a long time, staring at the steering wheel and wondering what he should do.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I prefer drawing to talking. Drawing is faster, and leaves less room for lies.” - Le Corbusier_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for an asshole saying assholish things that might be upsetting. Hit up either of us if you'd like to know more before reading.

The next time Tony saw Steve, he couldn’t help but think about what Steve had said the other day, his anger at being coddled, being protected, and how much Tony wanted to do just that. Tony knew he was being quiet and sullen throughout their dinner, and he could feel Steve reacting to it with concern and irritation, but he didn’t know how to put into words what was bothering him. He didn’t want to put Steve on the spot, making him explain that he wasn’t happy with their sex life. And Tony was painfully aware that Steve could easily be satisfying that need with someone else if Tony wasn’t giving him what he wanted. It had only been a few weeks - though an awesome few weeks - and Tony didn’t have the guts to ask Steve if Tony was the only person he was seeing.

So that night, when Steve pulled him upstairs and started working Tony’s clothes off, Tony decided to show him that it didn’t have to be like that, that he wouldn’t mind if Steve took over control of things in bed. Steve dropped to his knees and sucked Tony down, staring up at him teasingly through long lashes. Tony’s hands itched to thread through Steve’s hair, pull him up and throw him on the bed, but he held back, waiting, letting Steve drive.

Tony watched his cock disappear between Steve’s wet lips and bit back a groan. It wasn’t long before Tony’s breath was hitching, catching on a moan with every other heave of his chest. Steve pulled back and pressed a kiss to his thigh, then gazed up at him curiously. Tony sat down hard on the bed, and Steve stood in front of him. Steve’s hips drew Tony’s hands to them, and he wanted to pull, to squeeze, but instead he guided Steve gently into his lap and tipped back on the mattress, Steve perched over his thighs.

Steve continued to give him an odd look, and when Tony shifted uncertainty under his gaze, Steve sighed and sat back on his heels. “What’s wrong?”

Tony thought he ought to say, _Nothing, I’m fine,_ and the words even welled up into his throat, but he saw Steve’s disappointment, his worry, written all over his face, and he couldn’t be anything but honest. “I never want to make you feel like that,” Tony mumbled.

Steve stilled, stared. “Like what... good?”

“Oh no no…” Tony realized he’d had half the conversation in his head instead of out loud. “Like that woman in your class from the other day. I don't want to make you feel weak or useless or.... like I'm taking over for you. But I like…” Tony’s hands danced over Steve’s thighs.  _ I like taking you. _

Steve sighed and he placed both his palms flat on Tony's chest. “You never make me feel like that. You make me feel amazing. When you hold me, when you -” Steve's hands clenched, digging into Tony’s skin then relaxed. “I feel safe, I feel held, I feel... sexy. You make me feel powerful - like I have the ability to drive you so wild that you can't hold back, that you have to smother me and squeeze me and cover me. And I feel protected too. It's nice to let go... It's nice to be cared for. You don't make me feel weak Tony, just amazing. Please don't stop.”

And that was - fuck - that was the hottest thing anyone had ever said to him. Tony was overcome for a moment, a rush of emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to flooding through him. He stared up at Steve in awe and brought one hand up to cup his cheek. “What do you want?”   


“Fuck me, take me, all of me,” Steve replied, with no hesitation.

With a growl, Tony flipped them so Steve was trapped under him. He took Steve apart, slowly at first, then growing wilder as he fell to pieces. Steve kept up an endless stream of praise, of begging, of desperation, that broke into nothing but Tony's name over and over as he came.  After, they lay together side by side, and Steve pressed kisses down Tony’s neck and along his shoulder. And just as he was drifting off, Tony heard Steve whisper so softly he wasn't sure it was meant for his ears, “No one makes me feel like you do.”

**

The pounding bassline rattled through the bathroom of the club, the melody cutting in and out every time someone opened the door. Tony turned off the sink and ran his wet hands through his hair, pushing it even wilder than it already was. He grinned at his reflection. Steve’s hands had dismantled his hairdo in the first place, sitting on his lap by the bar and pushing eager fingers between the strands. He’d worn his oh-so-effective Incognito Baseball Hat to the club, but Steve had whipped it off his head almost immediately, hands all over Tony on the dance floor. He was honestly surprised no one had recognized him yet, but maybe a dingy, gay club in Brooklyn was far enough from his normal stomping grounds that it didn’t cross anyone’s mind that that might really be Tony Stark.

Tony pushed back out through the heavy door into the hall that led to the main club. The music filled every nook and cranny in the large space, pouring down the hall and flooding into the space under the stairs. Tony turned past the railing and through an open doorway. It was dark, but he remembered where he’d left Steve - nursing a drink by the bar, in the corner. 

Tony started shifting his way through the press of bodies, making his way across the dance floor and swaying in time with beat as he moved. He enjoyed the way the heavy music prevented his brain from zipping along too many paths. It couldn’t shut it down entirely - few things could - but a few tracks of his many-track mind stayed caught in the low thump in his chest and the wail of synths flooding his ears. The crowd parted a little at the end of the dance floor, and Tony finally caught sight of Steve’s blonde hair and white shirt.

There was a dark shape between them, and as Tony turned the corner, he realized it was a man and he was standing close to Steve. Very close. Steve had his back to the wall and a drink in his hand, and the man - who had six inches on Steve, easy - was leaning over him with one hand pressed against the wall by his head. Tony’s stomach twisted with sour jealousy. They still hadn’t had the conversation - the are-we-exclusive conversation - but they’d seen each other enough over the last month that it felt like they were gearing up for it.

Even if they weren’t, it was pretty bad form to pick up a guy while you were on a date with another. 

Then the man shifted to the side and Tony caught sight of Steve’s face for the first time. The jealousy roared into anger instead. Steve was radiating discomfort. His shoulders and feet twisted to the side, as if looking for a way to escape, his mouth was turned down in a scowl that was completely different from the one he aimed at Tony and his own art - this one was  _ pissed.  _

Tony moved faster, elbowing a few people out of the way. The man leaned in to say something into Steve’s ear, and Steve’s lip curled up in a sneer. He leaned away and replied - short and sharp - but the man followed his movement until he was properly caging Steve against the wall. One of Steve’s hands reached out to press against the man’s chest and shoved a little, jolting the man back half a step, but he just bounced back, even closer this time. Possessiveness wound through Tony’s gut, curling up past his lungs and into his throat. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, it was still so early in their relationship, but Steve always made him feel primal and overheated and animalistic. And this drunk dipshit couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

The asshole’s other hand came forward to rest on Steve’s hip, blocking his escape, and Steve shoved hard this time, gaining some distance, but then Tony was there and his body was moving on its own, his fingers closing over the man’s bicep and ripping him out of Steve’s space. “What the fuck?” he growled out. 

Steve pushed away from the wall, grabbing Tony’s arm with both hands. “Come on, forget him, let’s dance.” Steve tugged him towards the dance floor, and Tony gave into the grip, shooting the guy one last look. He was glaring at Tony and rubbing his arm where he’d been grabbed. Tony let out a sharp breath and turned after Steve. 

“I don't think I wanted a go at your slutty twink anyway. He probably couldn't even fit my cock down that scrawny throat of his.” 

Tony shifted his weight back and spun on his heel. He swung, controlled, careful, precise, snapping his closed fist against the man’s nose. The man hit the ground with a choked cry, dropping his face to his hands. Tony stared down at him, not realizing until Steve’s fingers slipped around it that his hand was still closed into a fist.

He relaxed immediately, spinning to face Steve, taking hold of him. “You alright?” he murmured. “Sorry.”

Steve’s eyes were wide and his mouth was twisted oddly. “Tony. You have to take me home right now.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, his hands flitting over Steve of their own accord, checking for injury. “What, why? Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Steve said, very pointedly, waiting until Tony’s eyes found his. “You have to take me home. Right. Now.”

“Wha -” And then Tony’s brain caught up and he realized that the strange light in Steve’s eyes wasn’t fear or pain, but  _ arousal.  _ “Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice dropping low and teasing, desperately hopeful that Steve was, in fact, not kidding him. 

Steve’s eyebrow shot for the ceiling, and Tony pulled back, rapidly cycling through several options for getting Steve naked as soon as possible. He could buy the building, but that took time. He could use JARVIS to set the fire alarm off, clear everyone out, and take Steve behind the bar, but people were dumb and slow and they would likely get interrupted by firefighters. He was seriously considering calling the armour to him and flying them both back to the tower, when the dickwad he’d punched staggered to his feet and started spluttering offended bullshit towards Tony.

Tony turned towards him to say something along the lines of, “Well, don’t touch my things,” but Steve’s hand closed around his wrist again and tugged, and Tony was helpless to do anything but follow. Steve pulled Tony out of the club and up the stairs to the street. It wasn’t raining anymore, but it had been, and the sidewalk glowed with the reflected light of the streetlights caught in the puddles. Tony sucked in a lungful of cool air, then spun Steve around and pressed his back against the damp bricks. And Steve  _ moaned  _ because he was clearly put on earth expressly to test all of Tony’s limits.

“Taxi -” Steve gasped out as Tony descended on his neck. “Tony.”

“Fuck a taxi.” Tony nipped at the soft skin under Steve’s ear. “Happy’s on his way.”

Steve’s hands slipped under Tony’s shirt and settled, palms flat, against his stomach. “I didn’t hear you call.”

“I pressed my panic button.”

Steve laughed, low and rich. “You’re insane.” But his fingers curled into sharp nails, scraping over Tony’s abs, and his thighs bracketed one of Tony’s, rolling forward until Tony could feel how hard he was already. “Why do you even have a - uhh - panic button. You’re Iron Man.”

Tony drew him into a bruising kiss. “It’s old…” he mumbled against Steve’s lips. 

When he couldn't resist the pull of Steve’s neck again, Steve said breathlessly, “Is he even still going to co-”

There was a screech of tortured brakes skidding on wet pavement and a sleek, black Aston Martin slammed to a halt, double parked on a vicious angle. Happy darted out of the driver’s side, panting a little as he jogged over, leaving his door open out into traffic. “Boss!” he called. “You alright? What’s happening?”

Tony gathered Steve up, wrapping his arms around him so his back was against Tony’s chest and hustled him over to the car. Steve’s hands came up to grip Tony’s wrists where they crossed over his chest, and he sunk into the hold, letting himself be moved. “Just need a ride, buddy, chop chop, let’s go, put the divider up please.”

Happy opened his mouth as if to say something, then sighed and shook his head, popping the door open for Tony and trotting back around to the driver’s side. Tony manhandled Steve into the back of the car, laying him out on the seat and crawling over him.

“Uh, guys?” Happy said delicately. “You might want to, uh - There’s no divider in this one.”

Tony sucked a bruise into the dip at the front of Steve’s collarbone. “You’d better drive fast then,” he mumbled into Steve’s skin.

Happy muttered out something that sounded a lot like, “For fucks sake,” and pulled away with another screech. It was longest drive of Tony’s life, and an even longer elevator ride, but finally he had Steve upstairs in the penthouse. All their clothes were gone by the time they stumbled into the apartment and Tony honestly couldn’t remember if any of them were in the backseat of the Aston. He made a mental note to give Happy a raise. He ran his hands down the back of Steve’s thighs and Steve jumped up, wrapping his legs around Tony’s waist and his arms around his neck. 

Tony scraped his hands down Steve’s back, letting his fingertips roll over every knob of his spine. Their mouths found each other and they panted through the kiss. Steve rolled his hips, arching backwards until his entire weight was trusted to Tony’s hold, and  _ fuck  _ if that wasn’t the hottest thing he could do. Tony slammed a hand against the wall to brace himself, then crowded Steve up against it, working his way down his jaw and throat to nip along his collarbone. “You liked that? Back at the club?” Tony asked, the hand on Steve’s back slipping lower.

Steve moaned and slumped into Tony’s arms. “Yes,” he breathed. “I like knowing that you’ve got me - got my back. That you’ll stand up for me.” Tony’s finger teased the edge of Steve’s hole, and he grunted out a sharp breath and kicked his hips forward, rubbing his cock on Tony’s stomach. “Plus you’re really fucking hot when you’re angry.”

“Fuck, Steve. You make me crazy.” Tony gathered Steve back up in his arms and stumbled down the hallway blindly, hoping he was going to end up somewhere in the vicinity of his bed. “I didn’t want him touching you.”

They made it, with only a few elbow-bumping miscalculations, and Tony dropped Steve on his back, half on the bed and half off, and immediately covered him with his body. He slid down and bit Steve’s hip - hard. Steve writhed and whimpered, his toes curling on the carpet. Tony fell to the floor, on his knees between Steve’s, ran both hands up his legs, then slipped his lips around the head of Steve’s cock.

Steve moaned out a litany of impressive curses in the heaviest Brooklyn accent Tony had ever heard and wound his fingers into Tony’s hair. He was lax and heavy on the bed, nearly sliding right off, but his hips twitched up, seeking the heat of Tony’s mouth. Tony obliged, sinking down until his nose was buried in the curls at the base of Steve’s cock. Tony worked him slowly, teasing with his tongue as he slid back, watching Steve’s reactions and filing them all away in a massive mental database titled: MAKE STEVE WEEP. 

Tony reached over to the bedside table, never losing his rhythm on Steve’s cock, and pulled open a drawer at random. It didn’t matter which, he’d stashed supplies all over his apartment since Steve had started coming over; he wouldn’t have been surprised to find condoms in the vegetable crisper at this point. He got his hands on lube and a condom and slicked up his fingers, trading his teasing thumb for two fingers on his right hand. 

Tony worked Steve open roughly, pushing his fingers in deep and curling them until Steve gasped. He hollowed his cheeks as he slid back, sucking around the head of Steve’s cock before sliding down again. Every time he swallowed Steve down, he pressed his fingers deeper. Every moan and gasp of Steve’s went straight to Tony’s cock until he was desperately hard and leaking. 

“Tony, Tony, Tony,” Steve babbled, his hands clenching and unclenching in Tony’s hair, nails scraping his scalp, then fingertips soothing softly afterwards. And that was all the patience for prepping that Tony could handle. Hooking his hands behind Steve’s knees, Tony tugged, drawing Steve over the edge of the bed and down into his lap. Tony lined up the head of his cock and let Steve slide down onto him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he settled onto Tony’s lap. 

Searing heat surrounded Tony’s cock, and he grabbed Steve’s hips hard enough to bruise, resisting the urge to fuck up into him. But Steve rolled his hips, rocking up and sliding down and Tony fell into rhythm with Steve, matching his pace, but taking over control so Steve’s weight rested against the side of the bed and Tony lifted and drew back, then let him down and rocked forward over and over. Steve’s legs came around his waist and Tony gripped two handfuls of the sheets, folding around Steve until he was trapped in the cage of his body. 

With one hand, Tony stroked up the back of Steve’s neck and raked his nails through his hair. Steve let his chin tip forward until his forehead rested against Tony’s shoulder and his neck was exposed. Thrusting into Steve harder now, feeling the familiar build, Tony pressed his mouth to the the back of Steve’s neck. Kissing first, then nipping, Tony worked Steve’s skin pink and raw. Steve’s hands scrabbled against Tony’s chest, needy, desperate whimpers leaking out of his throat. Tony ran his tongue, flat and hard along the ridge at the top of Steve’s spine and watched a shiver continue the rest of the way down.

Tony hooked his free hand around Steve’s lower back and squeezed him closer with every thrust. Steve’s breath was hitched and wild, but with pleasure, not restriction, so Tony gave him what he knew Steve wanted. He rocked up onto his knees, Steve’s ankles still crossed behind his back, braced Steve’s back against the mattress and pounded into him relentlessly. Steve’s hand dropped to his own cock, stroking his length roughly. Tony pressed his forehead to Steve’s and looked down, watching Steve bring himself to release, pinned on Tony’s cock. Steve squeezed, twisted his palm over the head of his cock and cried out. Tony never relented, fucking him right through his orgasm, feeling every pulse around his cock as Steve covered his own chest in come.

“Ah, fuck,” Tony hissed out, while Steve choked his way through a litany of wordless moans. With one arm around Steve’s waist he brought him to the floor, folding his legs up to his chest and rocking into his ass. Steve’s hands snapped to Tony’s wrists, holding on for dear life. “You want me to fill you up?” Tony asked.

“God, yes.” Steve whimpered, arching his back on the carpet, urging Tony even deeper. “Please. I want to feel you come deep inside me.”

“Jesus,” Tony huffed out. Hearing those words with Steve’s utterly fucked out voice - half gasp, half desperate plea - set Tony careening over the edge. He grabbed Steve’s hips and pulled him tight to him, unable to breathe while wave after wave of white-hot pleasure washed over him. “Oh my god.” He slumped down, trying not to crush Steve and probably only half succeeding, Steve’s arms wrapped around his back, holding him tight. 

Tony shifted back, hooking an arm around Steve’s waist to ease him off, but he whimpered and clutched Tony closer. “Just a little longer…” Steve whispered into Tony’s chest, so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. 

Tony stayed, curled over Steve, elbows braced on the carpet and his face pressed to Steve’s neck as long as he could, but when his joints started to complain he pulled back, sliding free of Steve’s body with a groan. Steve stayed slumped on the floor, eyes closed and arms splayed haphazardly by his side while Tony peeled off the condom and tossed it in the trash. He scooped Steve up in his arms and carried him to the bed - he was lighter than the lightest piece of the armour.

Tony pulled the sheets back and tucked Steve under, crawling in beside him. His hand found Steve’s cheek, brushing the tips of his fingers along the edge of Steve’s jaw. Steve’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re incredible,” he murmured.

“Me? No way, that was all you, darling.” Tony pulled Steve tight against his chest and kissed him hard. Steve smelled like whiskey and sweat and it reminded Tony how they had ended up here, so wild and desperate and caught up in each other. “Steve? I - It wasn’t just - I feel like I should tell you that it wasn’t just about protecting you, Steve. I...” Tony traced a finger down Steve’s side, following its movement with his eyes, unable to meet Steve’s. “I didn’t want - don’t want anyone else touching you. Just me.”

“Just you,” Steve whispered. There was something wavering unpleasantly in his voice so Tony snapped his eyes up to meet Steve’s, and they were wide open now and worried. 

“It’s okay, if you’re not ready - if you don’t want that,” Tony assured him hurriedly.

Steve’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “No - There’s no one else, there hasn’t been anyone else since I met you. Don’t know where I’d find the time, really,” Steve laughed but it was tight and didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just - I was thinking about it. And, if you’d like to, I kinda want to make this more of an official boyfriends deal. Or whatever the kids call it these days. If you’re not, though, just say.” Tony steeled himself for the possibility that the answer he’d get was no. He struggled mentally with the idea while Steve scowled at what appeared to be Tony’s left nipple. If Steve said no, Tony wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. The idea of Steve with other people… it wasn’t just uncomfortable, it made him  _ angry.  _ And that wasn’t fair to Steve, unless that’s what he wanted from him.

“And…” Steve started. Tony rubbed his hand encouragingly over Steve’s belly. “And no one else for you too, right?” He sounded so hesitant.

“Uh - yeah, of course. What kind of deal would that be, one way?”

“I just… I don’t get why… you would want that.” Steve admitted haltingly.

Tony fell silent. “Seriously?”

Steve shrugged, his shoulder brushing against the pillow as he moved. Tony’s hands twitched, wanting to find a way to erase that shrug, shove it back in and trade it for a smile.

Tony reached up and stroked Steve’s jaw softly again. “You drive me crazy, Rogers. I don’t want anyone else. I think about you all the time. That guy in the club - he made me so angry because I didn’t want him touching what was mine, and when I realized that, I also realized I’d never asked if you were - mine that is. But I want you to be. And I’d be yours too, obviously. Honestly -” Tony took a deep breath “- I pretty much already am.”

“Oh.” Steve’s voice was raw and awed and a little lost. “Ok. Yes. Me too. I only want you to touch me. And me to touch you. No one else.”

“You’re sure?”

Steve nodded, then finished the nod by pressing his face into Tony’s chest. “I already am too.”

Tony felt a bit like running a victory lap around the penthouse, but he had a feeling that might ruin the moment, so he settled for wrapping his arms around Steve and squeezing until he squeaked, then pressing kisses to everything he could reach without dislodging Steve from his chest. 

They fell silent in the now dark bedroom, snuggled close together, and Tony thought Steve was asleep until he suddenly spoke. “Tony?”

“Mm?”

“Um… it’s okay if you want to say no to this, but… it would be nice if we could - I mean if we got tested and then… then I could feel you? Since it’s just us.”

Tony’s cock enthusiastically voted for yes, and he huffed out a groan into Steve’s shoulder. “You can’t just say things like that without warning, Steve, fuck.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah? It’s okay if you don’t want to fuck me bare like that. But it’d be nice to be sure and then if we wanted... I’m clean, there really hasn’t been anyone since the last time, besides you, but…you know.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s do that please. Soon. Like right now.” Tony made to get out of bed and Steve laughed and pulled him back down.

“Go to sleep, Tony.”

“As if I’m ever going to be able to sleep, now that you’ve put that thought in my head. Getting to feel you with nothing in the way, just you. I want that. Badly.” Tony’s voice dropped low as he whispered his desires in Steve’s ear.

“Well, fuck, now I won’t be able to sleep either. Dammit, Tony.”

**

It was another week and a half before they both had their clean test results and time to see each other, but once they did they decided to forego any pretense at a date, and Steve just motored over to the tower the second he was done class. 

The elevator chimed, and Tony looked up to see Steve standing inside, leaning against the back wall, smirking at him. He tossed aside the soldering iron and motored across the workshop, slamming a palm against the wall on either side of Steve’s head and dipping down to give him a bruising kiss. Steve moaned and sunk into it, then sunk to his knees instead. “Holy shit,” Tony ground out, as Steve opened his pants and pulled his cock out. He’d been halfway to hard ever since he knew Steve’s class had let out, and now he was aching and straining in Steve’s hand. 

Steve licked his lips, slow and sinful, eyes on Tony, then slid his tongue over the head of Tony’s cock, lapping up the bead of pre-cum that had formed on the slit. Tony’s hands clenched against the elevator wall. The elevator chimed and the door sprung open into the penthouse, but neither man noticed or cared. Steve wrapped his lips around Tony’s cock and sunk down cruelly slowly, sending jolts of electric pleasure up Tony’s spine.

“Fuck, Steve, that’s so hot. You’re so good at that. Keep that up and this faulty old heart of mine is going to - uh - give out.  _ Shit. _ ” One of Tony’s hands fell to Steve’s hair, stroking and petting through the soft strands, then gripping, when he needed an outlet for the tension wound tight through his core. Steve moaned at the tight hold, sliding even deeper then pulling back and sliding down again, quicker this time. “And you - your painter's wrists aren’t strong enough to do CPR. That’ll - fuck - that’ll be the end of me, and you -” Tony’s hips bucked forward “- you’ll feel so guilty.”

Steve glared up at him then pulled back, releasing Tony’s cock and making him whimper and kick forward, chasing the sensation. “You mean these wrists?” Steve wrapped both hands around Tony’s cock, slick with split, and stroked down, twisting them gently in opposite directions.

“Holy fuck.”

“You’d better hope they're strong enough because no one else is allowed to kiss you now.”

Tony chuckled then broke it off with a moan when Steve stroked him again. “Not even to save my life?” he asked, laughing between gasps.

“Nope.” Steve popped the “p” and smirked. “All mine.” He wrapped his lips around the head of Tony’s cock again and slid down slowly, 

“Okay, yeah, all yours,” Tony conceded, squeezing his eyes shut and smacking his closed fist against the elevator wall. Steve kept sucking him down, deeper and deeper, and Tony started to get lost in the sensation, the urge to rock forward into Steve’s mouth building in his core as a restless, electric energy. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he hooked his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, tugged him up and started driving him towards the bed.

Steve’s lips were shiny and wet from sucking on Tony’s cock, and Tony slammed their mouths together, tasting himself on Steve, groaning into it. He grabbed Steve’s ass with one hand as the back of his knees hit the bed and Steve broke the kiss to moan, loud and filthy; a full-body shudder ran from his head to his feet. “Eager?” Tony tried for teasing, but he sounded just as gone himself.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Steve bit out, his hands scrambling for Tony’s clothes. There was a brief scuffle while they each struggled to be the first to get the other undressed. Finally naked, Steve tipped onto the bed and scrambled backwards until he was stretched out on the sheets, eyes staying fixed on Tony’s the whole time. Tony followed him, settling between his spread legs, his mouth dropping to pepper kisses over Steve’s chest. Tony sucked Steve’s nipple between his teeth and worried it until Steve gasped and smacked a hand to his shoulder. Tony hooked one hand behind Steve’s knee and ran his palm up the underside of Steve’s thigh, all smooth skin and heat. 

His fingers slipped under Steve’s ass to tease his hole, but a flat, smooth disc blocked his progress. “What the - jesus, Steve.” Tony pulled back, sitting up in his heels and spreading Steve’s legs wide to look. The base of a black, silicone plug was visible between his cheeks. “Holy shit.”

“I didn’t want to have to wait.” 

Tony’s hand went to the toy as if possessed. He pressed his thumb against the base and Steve moaned, his hands twitching on the sheets. Tony’s brain blanked out, his thoughts fizzing and popping into static at the idea of sliding right into Steve, of Steve being ready and waiting for him since - “When -?”

Steve’s blush spread all the way down his chest. “I wouldn’t have time after class… so I put it in before…”

Tony swallowed hard, unable to resist pushing on the plug again. “You wore this all through class?”

Steve’s eyes shifted dark instead of embarrassed, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. “You were all I could think about. My notes are just sketches of your face, your hands…” Steve rubbed his thumb along Tony’s cheek as if he were smoothing out rough pencil lines. “Every time I moved, I could feel it and remember that you were going be there soon. I almost left early.”

“God… I don’t even know what to do with you. You’re incredible.” Tony pulled the plug out a little then pushed it back in. Steve’s head hit the pillow as his elbows gave out. Tony played with the plug, watching Steve writhe and shiver as he shifted it. Steve’s cock twitched and leaked against his belly and Tony couldn’t resist running his tongue along the shaft as he pulled the plug almost free again then slid it back in.

“Fuck, Tony. It was supposed to get you in me sooner, not make you tease me for hours,” Steve whined, bracing his foot against Tony’s leg and arching into the touch.

“Did you seriously think this wasn’t going to distract me? Look at you, goddamn…”

Steve threw his arm over his eyes and bit down hard on his lower lip. “Please…”

Tony kissed his way up the inside of Steve’s thigh then pulled the plug free. For all Seve’s complaining, he whimpered when it was gone, twisting after it. Tony replaced the plug with his fingers. “You’re so loose, so slick, Steve. All for me.” He curled his fingers while he scrambled for the lube with his other hand. A new thrill wriggled its way down his spine when he didn’t grab a condom too. He paused. “You sure?”

“God yes, please fuck me,” Steve begged, grinding on Tony’s fingers.

There was nothing Tony could say to that. He thrust his bare cock into his slick fist a few times then drew Steve towards him with a hand on each hip. He lined up the head of his cock with Steve’s hole, and when he pushed -  _ fuck -  _ Steve was so ready for him already, so hot and the plug was only as big as a few of Tony’s fingers so he was still so tight. Steve let out a short, sharp breath and closed his eyes, holding onto Tony’s biceps as he bottomed out and stopped to breathe. The sensation of Steve around him and under him and drawing him in was overwhelming.   

Tony only pushed into his heat a few times before he pulled back and urged Steve to roll onto his stomach. Steve buried his face in the pillow and arched his ass up towards Tony invitingly. Tony smacked it lightly, earning him a squeak, then pushed back in, slowly at first, then increasing his pace. Steve’s legs were trapped tight between his, making every slide deliciously tight on his bare cock. Tony folded his arms around the top of Steve’s head, bracing himself on his elbows until he covered Steve completely. Having Steve like this, locked in his arms, trapped under him, lit a fire in Tony. Steve was  _ his.  _ His to hold and fuck and protect. In this moment Steve had nothing but Tony - he blocked out the world completely, and, as he thrust deep into Steve over and over, all Steve could do was moan and repeat Tony’s name like a prayer.

There was power in owning Steve like this, in taking him apart until he was nothing but what he was giving to Tony, because Steve was a fierce energy, and when he gave in to Tony, he gave that energy to him. _ “Mine,” _ Tony couldn’t help growling out as electricity built in his core. He took a breath and slowed down, realizing almost too late that Steve hadn’t come yet. He’d been so caught up in the easy wet slide of his body that the urge to use Steve, fuck into him wildly until he was spent, had reared up and consumed him.

Tony bent his lips to Steve’s ear. “You feel so good,” he whispered, and Steve whimpered. Tony’s arms tightened around him. “I’ve got you, you’re mine. I want to make you come apart, Steve. I want to feel you clenching around me. I want to know that I’m that only one that makes you feel that way.”

“Just you,” Steve mumbled into the pillow, slurred. “Tony.”

Tony shifted his hips, finding the angle that made Steve gasp, then pounded into him roughly and relentlessly, slamming his cock against Steve’s prostate over and over. He gripped the sheets in his fists, willing his orgasm to hold off even as he felt it build, low and electric. 

“Ugh, god… Tony,” Steve stuttered out, arching up to meet his thrusts. Tony buried his face into the back of Steve’s neck and nipped lightly, then held there, breathing hot, irregular breaths against Steve’s skin, feeling his moans rumble through his chest and into Tony’s “I - _ TonyTony  _ -”

“Yeah, come for me, Steve, I want to feel you, I need -” Tony broke off and bit his lip. He couldn’t last much longer. “Come Steve, come for me, please, please,” he begged. Steve was panting now, sucking air wetly against the sheets, and Tony knew there’d be a puddle of drool there when he moved. 

And Tony wanted to hold off, he did, so badly, but Steve was so tight and wet and every noise he made vibrated in Tony’s chest, filling him with possessive pride, and he couldn’t hold back. “Fuck, Steve, I’m gonna -” As the first wave of his orgasm washed over him, Steve cried out and rocked back onto his cock, his muscles going tense, his ass clenching and squeezing, milking Tony’s come out of him as he came himself. 

“Tony, oh - my god -” Steve gasped out, but Tony could barely hear him. The sensation of pulsing deep inside Steve’s body, of filling him completely, was overriding Tony’s senses, his everything, every avenue of his multi-tracked mind occupied with nothing but Steve.

They stayed that way for a long time, Tony remaining wrapped tightly around Steve even after he’d found his breath and his thoughts again, because he knew Steve needed to be held, needed to be released back into himself slowly so he wouldn’t feel abandoned. Tony whispered gentle praise into Steve’s ear when he finally slid free, sitting back on his heels to admire his handiwork.

A trail of come leaked out of Steve’s fucked out hole, and Tony caught it with his thumb and pushed it back in, suddenly desperate that it stay inside, a claim, marking his territory. His eyes fell on the plug and he wondered, wondered how easy it would be to slide the toy back inside, keep Steve loose, but also full - full of Tony. His slid his thumb in again, imagining how it would feel to pull the plug loose and fill Steve up again, and Steve shivered violently. Tony released him and grabbed the blanket from his feet drawing it up over both of them as he settled at Steve’s side. Steve immediately pressed into Tony’s chest, making small, helpless noises of want, and Tony thrummed with possession again, knowing that he was the only one who could do this to Steve, who got to make him fall apart like this. No one else.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m not going to stop painting just to take orders” - David Hockney_

To his surprise, Tony found that knowing he had Steve at the end of the day, made working easier. Over the next few months, he fell into a rhythm of blasting through his projects during the day so he could focus all his energy on Steve at night, without work guilt hanging over his head, and Pepper’s frustrated voice ringing in his ear. He ended up getting much more done than before, when he was working all day and all night but without any focus or motivation to finish things.

They didn’t see each other every night - Steve had classes late on Mondays and Wednesdays - but on the weekends, Steve would stay over at the tower, and on Thursdays, all of Steve’s roommates were out at the same time, and Tony would come down to Brooklyn.

Tony found himself loving the drive to Steve’s place, even in a torrential downpour of freezing rain. He held his jacket over his head and pummeled the buzzer relentlessly until he heard the door click open and shoved inside, shaking ice water out of his hair. He should have brought an umbrella. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and heard a door creak above. Steve’s face appeared over the railing, grinning. 

“Wow, look what the cat dragged in.”

“Maybe if you’d answer your buzzer in a timely manner, I’d look my usual gorgeous self,” Tony said, reaching the last stair, and Steve. He grabbed his shirt and tugged him in for a sharp kiss, pulling Steve bodily against his soaked jacket and grinning against his lips when Steve squeaked and squirmed. 

Steve eventually escaped Tony’s hold and shoved him into the apartment. It was warm in here, the radiators cranked to max, and Tony only let himself worry briefly that Steve’s heating bills would pay the price. He shucked his jacket, and his shirt, ending up in only his undershirt. His pants were soaked from a puddle at the curb and he shot Steve a look. Steve was leaning against the kitchen counter, chewing the end of a sketching pencil and eyeing Tony up appreciatively. “It’s just you and me,” he said with a smirk.

Tony dropped the pants too.

Steve raked his eyes over Tony’s body then pushed away from the counter to press up against his chest. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and held him close. He smelled like art fixative and it tickled Tony’s nose, but he couldn’t help burying his face in Steve’s neck and breathing in deeply.

“I was going to take you to the MOMA,” Tony said. “But it’s insane out there and I don’t have a change of clothes.”

Steve pulled away, gathered up Tony’s things and laid them over the radiator to dry. “We can stay in? I can make us something. We can watch the first five minutes of a movie.” Steve winked.

“You cook?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Tony watched Steve pull things out of the fridge and cupboards. Their food stores were meagre, but Steve didn’t try to hide it, and Tony stomped down the urge to call Angelino’s and have them deliver enough groceries to feed a small town. Steve let Tony take him out, pay for their dates, but Tony was trying to hold off on the tsunami of gifts thing he was prone to - it tended to turn people off. And he preferred to turn Steve on…

Tony sidled up behind Steve, barely noticing what he was doing with the food he’d pulled out as his entire focus was laser sharp on the exposed back on Steve’s neck. He started with one light kiss, then crowded Steve up against the counter, scraping his teeth along the edge of his collar and flicking his tongue against the soft skin behind Steve’s ear.

“Tony…” Steve warned.

“Hmmm, you just do the cooking thing, and I’ll take care of this.”

“My neck?”

“Yes. It needs a lot of attention.” Tony kissed the ridge of tendons that sat proud, stretching between Steve’s shoulder and his hairline.

“What if I need help?” Steve gestured towards the counter, but Tony ignored it, hooking a finger in Steve’s collar and pulling it aside to gain access to more smooth skin. 

“Don’t worry.” Tony skated the fingers of his other hand along the back of Steve’s waistband. “I can help you out.”

Steve chuckled, then shook Tony off his back. “Nope.” He pointed a stern finger at him. “None of that. I’m starving, and I bet you are too. Food first.”

“Fun ruiner.”

Steve grabbed a handful of Tony’s undershirt and pulled him in for a kiss filled with filthy promise. “Fun delayer,” he corrected.

“Alright, let’s get this food thing over with. What can I do?”

Steve eyed him suspiciously. “Yeah.. what  _ can _ you do?”

“Hey! I’m… thing… I can do… stuff. Okay, I can’t cook for shit, but I’m an engineer, you’re what? You’re chopping things? I can take stuff apart, I do that all the time.”

Steve laughed, then grabbed a second cutting board and a knife. He set Tony up on the counter opposite, with a couple of carrots. “Okay, Mr. Engineer. Take those apart for me. For a stir-fry.”

Tony wasn’t sure what stir-fry had to do with it, but he took the carrots and lined them up on the board. He was about to start chopping when Steve put a hand on his elbow and handed him a torture implement. “What in god's name is that?”

“It’s a peeler.”

“To what? Remove my skin? Jesus Christ. If you want this to be part of the fun later, I’m just saying, not my kink.”

Steve laughed again. “For their skin, Tony.” He waved it at the carrots. Steve picked up a carrot and showed Tony how to scrape the peel off, then dropped it quickly and hurried away when the frying pan on the stove started sizzling.

Tony set to work peeling the carrots and accidentally discovered that yes, the peeler did work on skin, and no, it  _ definitely  _ would not be part of the fun later. He took the three somewhat haphazardly peeled carrots and lined them up again. He sliced them into careful circles, his engineering brain enjoying each circle getting larger in diameter while staying the same thickness as he worked his way up the tapered length of the carrots. 

He presented them proudly to Steve when he was done. “Carrots.”

“Um,” Steve said.

“What?”

“They’re discs.”

“That’s what happens when you slice cylinders into smaller cylinders.” Tony frowned at the carrots, sensing he had screwed up.

“It’s fine,” Steve said hurriedly. “I usually julienne them for stir fry, but it doesn't matter.”

“I can do it again.”

“No, no. I don’t want to waste them. It’ll be fine, Tony, I promise. I’ll just put them in first so they have time to cook.”

“Sorry.” Tony didn’t often feel embarrassed, or at least not this kind of embarrassed, but he was struck for the first time with the idea that, to Steve, Tony was a stupid rich kid - no life skills, always with someone to cook and clean and deliver the gold-titanium alloy for him. He could build a prismatic accelerator in his house but he had no idea how to clean a toilet. Or chop carrots.

There must have been something awful in his face because Steve set down the spatula and crowded up into Tony’s space. “I should have said. It’s okay.”

“No…” Tony’s arms wrapped around Steve’s waist of their own volition. “I’m just having a tangential mental breakdown that the carrots are only slightly to blame for.”

“You alright?”

Tony shot him a grin. “Of course. I mean, I could probably learn to clean a toilet, right? It can’t be that hard.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“That’s pretty much par for the course though, yeah?”

Steve smiled instead of answering, and Tony pulled him back in and squeezed him until he squeaked. Steve shoved his way out of Tony’s arms after a moment to tend to the stove. Once the oil was heated, Steve poured Tony’s carrot circles in the pan and pushed them around with a spatula. Losing interest in the cooking, Tony descended on Steve’s neck again, nibbling his way along his collar. 

Steve finished making their dinner, despite Tony’s distractions, and they sat at Steve’s tiny kitchen table downing mouthfuls of stir fry and rice. It was good, despite the carrots being a little undercooked, and the company was even better, and by the end of the meal, and the bottom of a bottle of wine, they were both full of smiles and warmth.

They carried their dishes to the kitchen, but when Steve tried to start rinsing them, Tony grabbed him around the waist and spun him until his back pressed against the counter. “Okay, fun delayer, you can only delay for so long.”

Steve tried to look stern, but it broke into a smirk. Tony bent to kiss him, hard and insistent, and Steve melted against his chest, going limp, leaned back against the counter. Only Steve’s clothes and the thin layer of Tony’s boxers separated him from Steve’s heat, and Tony could feel Steve hardening rapidly in his pants. The unyielding pressure behind Steve gave Tony an idea, and he grabbed Steve’s hips and lifted him easily up onto the counter, shoving their two plates out of the way. Steve yelped, then moaned when Tony’s mouth dropped to his throat, kissing down towards the dip of his collarbone. 

Tony was filled with a sudden, frantic energy, like if he didn’t have Steve coming underneath him soon he was going to lose his mind. He claimed Steve’s mouth again in a fierce kiss while his hands pawed at Steve’s zipper. When Tony stepped back and dropped his face to Steve’s lap, nuzzling his hard cock through the fabric of his boxers, Steve braced his hands behind him on the counter and tipped his head back against the cabinet above. Tony popped open the one button on Steve’s boxers and his cock sprung free, eager and leaking precum. Tony wasted no time, sucking Steve’s entire length down in one swallow and knocking a harsh cry from his chest.

Tony’s arms hooked behind Steve’s waist, tugging him close until he was perched on the edge of the counter, safe from falling only as long as Tony had him. He wound his fingers into the back of Steve’s waistband and hollowed his cheeks, sucking Steve down relentlessly, over and over. Tony wanted - needed - to feel Steve give, tense, relax, quiver and come, to taste him, bitter and hot on his tongue, down his throat. Tony needed to claim him, rough and unforgiving. And Steve gave. He arched into Tony’s mouth, trusting that his hold would keep him from sliding to the floor. He cried that it was too much, too fast, and moaned and begged for more and harder and faster at the same time. Tony ran his tongue, flat, along Steve’s shaft, circled the head, then dropped again, letting his tongue lead the way - a hot, wet tease of what was to come.

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve whined, his hips arching up off the counter when Tony’s mouth pulled back to suck on the head of his cock. When Tony lowered again, he pulled Steve up towards him, lifting him easily so he met Tony’s mouth halfway. “Oh god, that’s - unh - so good. Not long…” Steve squirmed in Tony’s hold, not trying to escape, but unable to stay still any longer.

Tony increased his rhythm. His jaw was protesting being held open so long and his lips were sore and swollen, but he never paused, taking Steve’s length into his throat over and over, swallowing around the head then pulling back to tease him with his tongue. The was a clunk and a crash from behind Steve as his desperate, scrabbling hands knocked the dishes into the sink, but neither man cared. On Tony’s next descent, Steve’s legs locked around his back and held him in place. Steve shook - a full body shudder - groaned, then Tony felt hot liquid coat the back of his throat, sharp and familiar. Steve’s cock pulsed against his tongue, his body jerking in time with the waves of his orgasm.

Tony eased Steve back down on the counter, sliding off slowly, making sure he kept every drop of Steve’s come trapped between his lips. He swallowed, then gasped out a sharp breath, resting his forehead on Steve’s thigh. One of Steve’s hands came up to rest on Tony’s head, furrowed through his hair.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, his voice sounding utterly wrecked even though Tony had been the one with the cock down his throat.

Tony’s frenzy hadn’t faded, only transformed, and once he had recaptured his breath Tony pulled Steve roughly off the counter, holding him tightly against his chest. Steve’s feet scrabbled to touch the floor and failed, landing on the tops of Tony’s feet instead, while his arms wound round Tony’s neck. Tony stumbled blindly towards the bedroom, moving his mouth restlessly between Steve’s mouth and neck, first a bruising kiss, then a nip to his shoulder, then a line of hot kisses back up towards his tempting lips. Steve was putty, limp and lax in Tony’s arms, doing nothing more than holding onto Tony’s neck and kissing back for all he was worth.

Tony spun Steve as the reached the bed and pressed his chest down against the sheets with one hand. He bent over him and whispered in his ear, “This okay?”

“Yes,” Steve moaned. “I’m still - fuck - yes…”

Tony splayed one hand over Steve’s back, holding him down, and pushed his pants and boxers roughly down around his ankles before kicking off his own. He rummaged around on the bedside table with the other until he found a bottle of lube. He was too wild to trust himself to work Steve open - he’d be rough, unforgiving, he might hurt him - and he needed to feel Steve around his cock  _ now  _ so he squirted a generous amount of lube in his hand then rubbed it between the thick of Steve’s thighs. He pushed Steve’s ankles close together with his foot while his hand moved back to stroke his cock. Tony leaned over to cover Steve’s body with his own, pressing him deeper into the mattress with the hand on his back. Steve’s arms stretched out limply above his head, his hands clenching and unclenching on the sheets. 

The feel of Steve’s hot, slick skin around him as Tony pushed his cock between Steve’s legs was overwhelming and Tony had to suck short, sharp gasps of air against Steve’s back to keep himself from pushing, pulling, needing, grinding, taking too much. Steve did nothing more than whimper and moan, his face buried in the sheets, body gone to butter in Tony’s grip. Tony fucked the space between his thighs hard, snapping his hips forward again and again. He had felt halfway to the edge when he started and it wasn’t long before his balls tightened and white-hot pleasure ricocheted through his core. “Fuck, Steve, I’m going to come all over you, do you want that?”

“Yes,” Steve moaned, muffled by the fabric pressed against his mouth. “Please, please, cover me. Show everyone I’m yours, yes, yes.”

Tony hand fell to Steve’s ass and he squeezed, remembering how Steve’s body clenched and rolled around his cock as he came. As if he could read Tony’s mind, Steve squeezed his legs more tightly together and that was it. Tony pulled back and came with a shout, shooting streaks of white all over Steve’s ass and thighs. 

Tony staggered backwards and braced his hand on Steve’s lower back as he tried to steady himself. Steve raised up on his elbows and turned to look behind him, finding Tony’s eyes. “Jesus Christ, Tony.”

“You alright?” Tony panted out.

“Alright? I’m fantastic.”

Tony laughed, still working on calming his heaving chest. Steve rolled over and pulled Tony between his spread legs. He ran his tongue up Tony’s thigh and sucked gently on his cock, still hard and overly sensitive. Tony jumped and snapped his hands to Steve’s hair to still him. “Whoa, whoa, I’m still - Fuck. Shh.” Tony petted the back of Steve’s head, and he chuckled warmly. 

“Come on. As much as I’d like to clean you entirely with my tongue, let’s take a shower.” Steve took Tony by both hands and led him off towards the bathroom. “Was the fun worth the delay?”

“You better fucking believe it.”

Steve’s shower was crap - the pressure was at solar-powered, backyard water feature levels, and the hot water only lasted about thirty seconds - but it was full of a warm, wet, naked Steve, so Tony found he really didn’t care. Clean, and a little chilled, they curled up on the couch together, wrapped in layers of Steve’s enormous fleece blanket and turned on the TV. Tony snuggled down until only his head was sticking out of the blanket, and he rested that head on Steve’s side, trapping him against the arm of the sofa. Steve hummed happily, and they stayed that way for a long time.

The parts of the sitcom episode that Tony was missing with each blink got longer and longer until finally, Steve poked him in the ribs. “Don’t fall asleep, Tony,” he said softly.

“Wh’ n’t?” Tony mumbled back, shifting closer, into Steve’s warmth.

“It’s getting late, you should go.”

“I should stay.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d love you to, but I have to get up early and prep for class tomorrow.”

Tony nuzzled his cheek against Steve’s chest. “You can prep around me.”

“I can’t. You are far too distracting.” Tony looked up, and Steve bent down to kiss him. “Sorry.”

Tony rose up, knocking the blankets loose and loomed over Steve trapping him with one hand on the back of the couch and one on the arm, over Steve’s lap. “I think -” Tony kissed him hard “- that you should blow off class tomorrow and spend the day with me.”

Steve’s warm smile slipped off his face. “I wish. Don’t forget, you have to work tomorrow too.” He raised an eyebrow.

Tony shrugged. “I’ll blow it off too. Then I’ll blow other things…” Tony tucked his nose behind Steve’s ear and searched for something to nibble on.

“Mmm, yeah. I wish,” he repeated.

“Seriously, Steve. Let’s take a day off. We can go somewhere. Where do people go in the winter? Skating? Fuck it, we’ll fly to the Caribbean.”

“Yeah… I can’t take a day off, even to fly to the Caribbean with you. You’re insane.”

“Why not?”

“I have class, Tony.”

“So what? Play hooky.”

Steve’s expression twisted unpleasantly. “‘So what?’ So this is everything I’ve been working for since high school. We’re getting into our final project planning and it’s really intense. Maybe you can dump work whenever you want to, but I don’t have that luxury.” Steve shuffled a little on the couch, dislodging Tony with his elbow so they both sat up straighter. “I can’t afford to fuck my grades over.”

There was a slight, unpleasant emphasis on the word “afford” and Tony was reminded of carrots and cleaning toilets. He’d missed something here. He decided to backtrack. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. Obviously, if you need to go to class, that’s more important. I just thought - you know - sometimes it’s nice to take a day and reset. I’d enjoy taking you someone where nice. But if you can’t…”

Steve’s expression softened again, but he wouldn’t quite meet Tony’s eye. “Yeah, I can’t.”

“Okay.” Tony slipped out of the blanket and began collecting his clothes. His boxers and undershirt were in Steve’s bedroom, the rest of his layers laid out on the radiators. The cuffs of his pants were still damp, but the fabric was delightfully warm. When he was dressed he bent over and kissed Steve until he was smiling again. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Any time.” Steve caught the back of his head and pulled him in again, deepening the kiss until Tony seriously considered crawling back onto the couch and pressing Steve flat beneath him. Just as his resolve was cracking, Steve released him and shot him a cocky smirk. “Til next time.”

Tony laughed. “See you later. Good luck in class tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Have a good day at work. If you go.” Steve winked.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Tony kissed him one last time, threw on his jacket and pushed out into the wild weather. He was soaked again by the time he got to his car, but Steve’s kisses kept him warm all the way home.

**

Early next week, Tony snapped a picture under the conference table in one of SI’s expansive meeting rooms of all the legs in stodgy suits and black heels and texted it to Steve. He followed it up with:  _ Come over after class.  _ Suddenly this meeting seemed a lot less awful, knowing Steve would be there when he got home. He hadn’t seen him since last Thursday’s stir fry date at Steve’s, and need was thrumming hot and insistent under Tony’s skin. He tried to focus back on work, but his mind became a flip book of all the things he could do to Steve when he got upstairs. Bend him over the kitchen table… suck him off against a wall... fuck, if he were under the table right now...

Tony's hands clenched against his thighs. One more hour and Steve would be naked in his bed, texting him filthy plans, two more hours and Tony was out of here.

But one hour came and went with no reply from Steve. Just as Tony was packing up to leave the office and head upstairs, his phone buzzed and he scrambled to check it.

_ S: Sorry. Can't. _

That was it. Two words. Tony frowned at his phone.

_ What’s up?  _ he sent back, but hours went by with no reply. Steve sometimes got into his painting the same way that Tony got into engineering, so it wasn’t unusual to not hear from him all day, but the terse reply from that morning didn’t sit well, a solid lump of uncertainty at the bottom of Tony’s stomach.

Tony sent two more texts the next day - one asking if Steve wanted to go to a movie for their next date and another with a link to an article on the history of Brooklyn’s most interesting architecture that he thought Steve would like, but nothing. When another entire day went by without a response, Tony hopped in his car and drove through the tunnel to Brooklyn. He stopped at Steve’s favourite coffee shop and got lattes for both of them, then pulled up outside his building. He knocked on Steve’s door and there was a few dull thuds followed by a louder crash, then Steve wrenched the door open.

His hair was askew and clumped with wet paint in places. Steve’s arms were a rainbow of colours, swirling up his wrists in a mess of sticky acrylics. He’s opened the door with a paper towel, which now seemed to be stuck to his hand. Steve’s jeans and plain, white t-shirt were equally messy, and he scowled across the threshold - Tony’s favourite look.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Tony grinned down at him in all his angry, paint-covered glory.

“Tony?” Steve’s scowl usually broke to a smile by now, but it hadn’t. “What are you doing here?”

“Brought you coffee.” Tony held up the tray of cups. “Wanted to check on you. I haven’t heard from you in two days.”

Steve’s scowl didn’t shift. “That’s just two days - Tony - I told you I was busy. I don’t really have time for coffee.”

“Take a break.” Tony winked. “It doesn’t have to be for coffee.” He shuffled forward a little into the doorway, but Steve didn’t step back to let him in.

“I don’t have time for a break.” Steve glanced behind him. “Look, I have to get back to this before it dries. I’ll text you later.”

Tony frowned.”Will you?” It came out a bit more scathing and a lot more pointed than he intended. “I came all the way down here. Why don’t I just wait around until you can take a break?”

“So, what? Til next Monday?” Steve bit out, his scowl shifting to the floor.

“You’re working too hard, Steve, you’re going to blow a fuse.” Tony thought back over the school work Steve had listed off for him the week before. It didn’t seem like that much. A night or two of frantic work and Red Bull should do it, though painting seemed to take a lot longer than engineering. He sighed. “I can come back tonight?”

“Or you can stop bothering me while I finish my final project. Come on, Tony, my entire credit for this course is riding on this.” There was an unpleasant edge under Steve’s words and for the first time it was directed at Tony instead of at his workload.

Tony’s stomach churned unpleasantly. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I just…” He looked down at the coffee cups. “I thought you might like some caffeine. Help you push through your work.”

Steve looked down at his paint-covered arms. “I already had some a little while ago, and now I’m all dirty anyway. Sorry, Tony. It’s just not a good time.”

He didn’t sound sorry, he sounded pissed. If Steve had just bothered to text him back, he wouldn’t have come down here, worried. “I haven't heard from you at all. If you didn’t want to see me, that’s fine. It’d just be nice if you said something,” Tony grumbled at the brown, plastic lids. 

Steve’s frown deepened. He shifted in the light and Tony could see dark circles under his eyes. “I told you I was busy.”

“Well, I didn’t know how long that would be for.”

“Until I say I’m not!” Steve snapped. “You can’t just come over here whenever you're bored, Tony. I’m swamped. I don’t have time. Sorry.” And with that, Steve shut the door.

Tony stood in the hallway, the weight of the coffee tray starting to make his wrist burn from holding it, but he couldn’t move. He stared at the door that had been shut in his face and tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong, what he’d fucked up.

It felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him. One minute they’d been giggling over carrot peelers and now he was getting, “I don’t have time”? What had changed?

Eventually, Tony had no choice but to either knock again and demand an explanation, which he couldn’t bring himself to do, or leave. He drank both coffees in the car on the way home. They were too hot and he drank them too fast, but he hoped the hyper buzz of too much caffeine would power him into the workshop and he could blank out with his arms full of wires and metal for a while. He didn’t want to think about Steve - it just made his head hurt. And his chest too.

He kicked his shoes off in the doorway, cranked his music as loud as it would go, snapped on his goggles and went to town on the Mark VII. After his second broken ankle connection, Tony grit his teeth and leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the armour. Okay - he clearly shouldn’t be doing precision work like this. He tossed down his pliers and hopped in the elevator. 

He pushed the button for the executive floor of SI without really thinking about it, then wandered around poking his head into empty offices, looking for something to distract himself from his churning, Steve-related thoughts.

“Tony?”

Tony brightened. Pepper was perfect. “Pep!” He spun and there was his newly-minted CEO, in all her glory, standing by the coffee maker with a mug and a stir stick in her hand. Coffee - even better. “Enough of that for two?” He walked over and peered at the espresso machine.

“For two, yes,” Pepper said. “For you? Not even close.” Pepper filled a second cup and handed it to Tony. “So what are you doing down here on a Saturday?” She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you alright? Is Steve alright?”

“Why would you assume - wait, it’s Saturday?” Tony noticed how quiet the tower was for the first time. “Why would you assume something is wrong? Can’t I just visit my best girl?”

“You can.” Pepper led the way back to her office. She set her coffee down and sat behind her desk. Tony collapsed into the chair opposite. “But you don’t. Unless something is wrong.’

“I’m hurt, Pep. I visit you all the time.”

“When was the last time?”

Tony thought about it. He’d been dying a bit, okay, yeah. “Well, that’s beside the point.” Tony waved it away with his hand. “I’m here because I need you, something is wrong.”

Pepper laughed prettily and shot Tony an affectionate look before turning to her computer and typing vigorously. Then she frowned. “Please tell me you’re not dying again.”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s uh it _ is  _ Steve. Or us, you know. We had a - thing. Fight. Or something.”

Pepper’s amusement melted into concern. She turned away from her screen. “What happened? You fought? What did you fight about?”

“Was it a fight?” Tony stared at Pepper like she held the answer. “I don’t know. I didn’t hear from him for a few days so I went over and brought him coffee and he told me to fuck off and slammed the door in my face.”

“What?! What did you do?”

“Okay that might have been slightly exaggera- wait why do you assume I did something?”

“Contrary to what you might think, people don’t just have the general urge to tell you to fuck off. Start at the beginning, Tony.”

“Okay, so I texted Steve during uh-” Tony had a flashback to the meeting and realized Pepper had been the one running it.

“During my meeting last week? Yes, I know. I know your sexting face, Tony, god help me.”

“I wasn’t - okay maybe I was  _ attempting,  _ but he didn’t text me back. Or, he did, but just a short message that he couldn’t come over. And then I didn’t hear from him at all for two days.”

Pepper stared at him for a moment. “You’ve only been dating, what? Four? Five months? And you never go two days without hearing from each other?”

“... No. Is that weird?”

Pepper opened her mouth then closed it again. “No. It’s… kinda sweet actually. I didn’t know you were that serious with each other.”

Tony squirmed at the mention of the s-word. They hadn’t talked about it since the night after the club, but Tony was feeling about as serious as the heart attack he was likely to have one day. He just didn’t know if they were following an appropriate trajectory or not. “It’s - whatever - but yeah. We’re both chatty. Except right now it’s just me. And I don’t know why.”

“What exactly did he say to you when you went over?”

“He said he was busy. That he’ll text me when he wasn’t anymore, and that he didn’t know how long that would be. Maybe next Monday, maybe sometime around the heat death of the universe.” Tony banged his forehead on Pepper’s desk.

“Look, Tony. Other people are not busy the way you are busy. When you get busy you get hopped up on caffeine, green sludge, and I-don’t-even-want-to-know-what, and binge your way through it in one night. You could easily go two days without texting anyone, mostly because you would have absolutely no idea it had been two days. When normal people get busy, they work really hard and spend all their spare time getting in done. For example, I’m here on a Saturday. Don’t assume it’s over, don’t assume Steve doesn’t want you anymore. You have to talk to him.” Pepper carded her fingers through Tony’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp with her manicured nails.

Tony hummed appreciatively. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Then you have to be patient.”

“Now you’re just making up words.” Tony caught her hand and raised his head from the desk to kiss the back of it. “Sorry, Pep. You’re right. I’ll let you get back to being unfortunately in on a Saturday.”

She smiled at him. “Love you, Tony.”

“Love you too.” Tony leaned over the desk to kiss her on her forehead as well, shot her a salute and left the office. He took the elevator up to the landing bay instead of his office or the penthouse. He leaned against the doorway to the landing pad, frowning down at his phone. Pepper wasn’t wrong, but Tony wasn’t sure she was right either. And he missed Steve. It wasn’t just worry over not seeing him, he missed him - deeply and viscerally. Tony scrubbed a hand over his face.  _ You have to talk.  _ Okay.

He hit Steve’s speed dial and let it ring eight times before hanging up. Steve didn’t have voicemail - he couldn’t afford it - which was probably all for the best because the rambling shitshow of a message Tony would leave in his current state wouldn’t help anything.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and marched out onto the landing pad, letting the bots assemble the suit around him. As soon as it was together, he snapped the faceplate down and blasted off. 

A supersonic trip around the state helped clear his head a little, but the organized thoughts that got knocked into place weren’t ones he liked. Pepper might be right, but she also didn’t know Steve that well, didn’t know what they were like together. And Tony had been ghosted on before, by people he really liked. His mind unhelpfully provided an image of Steve with his back against the wall at the club and a man leaning over him, but this time Steve was smiling, batting his eyelashes, touching the other man’s arm. What if it wasn’t schoolwork that Steve was busy with…?

Tony shook his head and dove deep, skidding the top of the water before shooting up again. That was crazy; Steve would never lie, or cheat. But he might… stop liking Tony. People stopped liking Tony all the time. And Tony had no idea what to do about that, because he liked Steve so much he was struggling to imagine his life without him.

Steve’s radio silence continued for the next four days. And they were four awful days. Tony attempted to build a better coffee maker, tore it completely to pieces when it sparked violently instead of making coffee, then put it all back together again hoping to actually make it spark violently this time, only to find it didn’t do anything at all. He was pissy and snapped at JARVIS more than once, getting only sass in return, as usual. It wasn’t the lack of Steve that bothered him, though that certainly wasn’t improving his mood, it was the complete lack of an explanation why.

Finally, on Sunday, Tony heard from Steve. After four days of radio silence, all he got was,  _ Can I come over?  _ Tony stared at the text for a long time, anger, hurt and frustration winning out over his desperate desire to have Steve in his arms again. He typed out  _ No  _ a few times but didn’t hit send, erasing them instead and staring at the empty reply box. The horrible, gut-wrenching certainty that he was about to get dumped filled up his core, leaving little space for his lungs to expand or his heart to beat in his already cramped chest. And the worst part of it was that he didn’t know where he’d gone wrong.

Eventually, nearly twenty minutes later, Tony typed out,  _ If you want,  _ and hit send before he could change his mind again. Steve must have been in the area, because Tony heard the familiar whirr of the elevator only ten minutes later. The doors opened and Steve appeared, leaning back against the far wall of the elevator. His eyes wouldn’t meet Tony’s fixed to the floor instead, and the scowl that Tony usually found so endearing was twinged with a painful and unwelcome sadness that ruined the whole look.

Tony swallowed hard and braced himself as Steve pushed away from the wall and shuffled across the floor. He took the chance to memorize the curve of Steve’s fingers against his thigh, the way his hair cut across his forehead, his blue eyes, his smooth neck. This was probably the last time Tony was going to see Steve, and he never wanted to forget a thing about him.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Drawing is the honesty of the art. There is no possibility of cheating. It is either good or bad” - Salvador Dali_

Steve crossed the room to stand in front of Tony’s desk. He tossed down a white envelope with Tony's name and a number stamped on it, then backed up a few steps and crossed his arms.

That was not what Tony was expecting. He picked it up. “What’s this?”

Steve sighed. “It's your ticket to my graduation. Each student gets one free ticket, and I don't have anyone else to bring, with Bucky away and Peggy already going. Anyway, you have to tell them the name when you order it, and I ordered it three weeks ago, back when I thought you might actually want to go.”

Tony opened the flap and slid out the ticket. It was smooth and matte black, void of any detail or colour that might draw from the text on the card proclaiming the name of Steve’s school and the details of the event. Nestled amongst the text was a tiny drawing of a graduation cap and a paintbrush. The drawing was simple, like the rest of the ticket, and flawless, apart from a large splat of glittering paint splashed across the cap’s board, dripping stylishly over the side where the brush lay next to it. All of this was printed in a shining gold, making the otherwise minimalist card seem fancy and professional. Tony ran his fingers lightly across the raised edges of the text and stared at it. “What – why would you think I wouldn't want to go?” he asked.

Steve shuffled in silence for a moment. “You hate that I'm in art school. You get frustrated every time I bring it up. You get angry when I'm too busy with schoolwork to see you. I know you don't like it, but this – this is something I have to do. It's important to me.” He backed up another step. “But yeah, it's in your name, so I figured I'd give it to you anyway.”

Tony stared at the envelope. That was – fuck, that was so wrong. “Steve. I don't hate that you're in art school. I – How can you -? No. I love that you're in art school. I think your work is incredible, and not just because you paint me sometimes. I can't believe how hard you've worked and you did this all on your own and I'm just – I'm really proud of you. Of course, I want to come.” Tony ran a hand through his hair, trying to get his whirling thoughts in order. “I wasn't mad... I just missed you – miss you.”

Steve's scowl dropped to the carpet. “I can't be at your beck and call whenever you want me. I have things I have to do.”

Tony opened his mouth to say, “I know,” then paused, thought about it for a moment, and said, “I'm sorry,” instead. Steve's shoulders drooped, then he shuffled across the floor until his forehead came to rest against Tony's chest.

“I'd like to be,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“I'd _ like  _ to be at your beck and call whenever you want me.”

A rush of hot desire rumbled through Tony’s chest, and his fingers danced their way up Steve's back. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” Steve's hips ground forward. “If I didn't have final projects, and homework, and gallery shows, and interviews, I'd be here all the time, naked, in your bed, just waiting for you to need me.”

“God, Steve. I always need you.” Tony dropped one hand to his waist and held him close, the other sliding up to the back of his neck to comb through his hair. Steve's hands went to Tony's ribs, gripping handfuls of his shirt and hanging there. “But I know I can’t always have you - I do. Sorry I fucked it up so badly.”

“You didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t all you. I’m really stressed…” Steve sighed again, and it sounded almost like a whimper.

“I’m sorry,” Tony repeated, more sympathy this time than apology. He ran his fingers firmly down either side of Steve’s spine, trying to soothe some of the tension out his muscles, and got a low groan in response. “Do you have an hour?”

“I have two. But I’m not really up for much. Honestly, I’d take a nap if I thought I could fall asleep, but I just keep thinking about all the planning I have to do for my final project - it’s a series and it’s just so much  _ work.  _ And that’s on top of my regular projects and assignments. And then this history course - why did I take history?”

“Alright, come here.” Tony pulled Steve along by the hand, leading him up to the penthouse and into the bedroom. He gently stripped Steve out of his clothes, and Steve gave into it, holding up his feet or lifting his hands above his head, but otherwise merely standing there and letting Tony lead. “You’re so beautiful,” Tony murmured, once he had Steve naked. He guided him to the bed and urged him to lay flat on his stomach, arms folded under the pillow where he rested his head.

Tony shucked his own clothes quickly, then climbed up onto the bed, settling over Steve’s hips, balanced on his heels so his weight would be comforting but not smothering. Tony asked JARVIS to crank the heat in the room, then ran his palms lightly over the smooth skin of Steve’s back. Steve let out a long, slow, breath and sunk into the sheets. 

With a signal, JARVIS lowered the lights, slowly so it wouldn’t be a shock, as Tony started to dig his thumbs into the muscles on either side of Steve’s spine. Tony’s hands were rough and strong, but they were careful and precise as well, and he treated Steve like a piece of delicate machinery, mapping out the run of his tendons, sliding deft fingertips over the beautiful planes of his back. Tony worked until he found a place where the muscles knotted, or Steve twitched a little, and he worked it loose before moving on to the next, like untangling lines that criss-crossed in one of his wireframe blueprints.

He started at Steve’s neck, worked over his whole back, then each limb, ending by digging the knuckle of his pointer finger into the arches of Steve’s feet. Tony’s thorough massaging was rewarded with groans and sighs, and though the noises where pooling down in Tony’s groin, he barely noticed, entirely wrapped up in Steve’s comfort.

When his feet were done, and Steve was a limp puddle on the mattress, Tony crawled back up and sprawled next to him, urging Steve up on his side and stroking his cheek. “Better?”

“Much,” Steve whispered, his eyes still closed. Tony’s hand skated down over Steve’s neck, chest, the side of his belly and onto his hips. Tony’s eyes followed the path of his hand and he saw that Steve was hard. Tony dropped his hand to the crease of Steve’s hip, then carded his fingers through the stiff curls at the base of his cock. 

“Want me to take care of this?” he asked, letting the back of his hand brush Steve’s cock. “Or would you rather sleep?”

Steve’s eyes fluttered open and his cheeks coloured. “I won’t be able to return the favour,” he muttered, embarrassed. His eyelids lost their battle with gravity and drooped shut again.

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Tony said. He eased Steve onto his back. “I gave you a choice. Choose.” He let a little heat, a little  _ something,  _ leak into his voice, and Steve swallowed in response, his body shifting and tensing on the sheets.

“Yes please,” he said finally, his voice breaking. “Please touch me.”

Tony rewarded him immediately by wrapping his hand firmly around Steve’s cock. Steve hissed and arched into the touch, but Tony soothed him with a, “Shush,” and eased him flat again. “Let me take care of you.”

Tony shuffled down the bed until he lay between Steve’s knees, head at his hip. He traced the crease of Steve’s hip with his tongue, puffing warm breath in the wake of his wet kisses. Steve let out all of his breath in a long sigh, though his thighs were trembling under Tony’s gentle touch. Tony took Steve in his mouth, letting enough spit build up that it was a slow, smooth slide down his length. When Steve groaned, Tony ran a soothing palm over his thigh and up his side, settling on his belly. 

Tony worked Steve slowly but steadily, feeling the pressure build under him, watching Steve fall deeper and deeper as Tony wound him tighter and tighter. When Steve broke, it was with a quiet whimper and both hands fisted in the back of Tony’s hair. Tony stayed where he was, letting Steve rock into his mouth as he came, and swallowed down every drop. When Steve’s shuddering subsided, Tony crawled up his body and tugged him close, tucking Steve's face into his chest. He tried to mumble something, but Tony ran his nails through Steve’s hair, gently scraping his scalp until his breathing evened out and his body went slack.

Tony couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to sleep, but lay there with Steve pillowed on his chest, imaginary blueprints dancing over his head as he sunk into an engineer's trance. JARVIS quietly let him know when the two hours were nearly up, and Tony shook Steve awake as gently as he could, not sure if Steve needed to leave right then, or if he just didn’t want to sleep any longer than two hours for fear of being up all night.

“Mmhm?” Steve buried his face back in Tony’s chest, curling into a ball.

“It’s almost three,” Tony told him, and Steve groaned.

“I wanna stay here forever,” Steve mumbled against Tony’s bare skin.

“Sounds good to me.” Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s back and rolled, until Steve was sprawled on the sheets, and Tony hovered above him. “Hi.”

Steve’s eyes flickered open. “Hi.”

“So.” Tony dropped his eyes to Steve’s mouth, suddenly nervous. “Are we okay? Because there was a whole thing with coffee and yelling and tickets, if I recall correctly, and I wasn’t really a fan.”

Steve frowned, but it wasn’t aimed at Tony. “Yes, sorry.” He reached up and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair, brushing it back out of his face - it was getting long. “I - school is really hard right now. I decided to do a series of paintings of Brooklyn through the early nineteen hundreds for my final project, which is a huge amount of research. Plus I took an art history course this semester, and it’s so different from my other courses. It’s incredibly interesting, but it has a written exam and it’s kind of kicking my ass and I don’t even know how to study for it.” He twisted a strand of Tony’s hair around his finger and his frown deepened. “I took it out on you. Sorry... It kind of feels like everything needs my attention at once so I end up doing nothing trying to figure out what I should do first and it all just goes to shit.”

Tony pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Anything I can do?”

Steve stretched his arms above his head and rolled his joints out, still cocooned in Tony’s arms. “I think you already have. I feel a lot better. Thank you.” Steve’s fingers danced over Tony’s chest, and he let his eyes fall shut, lost in the sensation. “Actually…”

“Anything. Want an island? Would that help? I can buy you one of those.” Tony finally got a laugh out of Steve as he dropped down for another kiss, as if he could capture the sound in his own mouth and save it for later.

“No island. I was going to ask if I could come study here tomorrow. I won’t be much fun, I really have to focus, but all my roommates are going to be home. I don’t mind the noise when I’m painting, but it’s hard to read and quiz myself in that environment.”

“Of course. You’re always welcome here, Steve. You don’t have to ask, you can just show up.”

“I know… I just… usually, we have a good time when I’m here and instead I’ll be saying, ‘Bernini was born in 1598 and died in 1680,’ over and over again and occasionally lying facedown on the floor and praying for death.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “It’s been a long time, a very long time - because I went very young, not because I’m old - since I was in college, but I do remember that part. How about you come study - you can even lock yourself in one of the spare rooms if you want, and I promise to leave you alone until you’re done? And then…” Tony buried his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck and breathed in. “And then you get a prize for working so hard.”

“That sounds very motivational.” Steve stretched again, and this time Tony rolled away and out of the bed. He tossed Steve’s clothes to him and pulled on his own. Steve scrambled up after him but ignored his clothes, kneeling on the bed and reaching out to pull Tony towards him with one of his belt loops. Tony had made it as far as pulling on his pants, and Steve pushed the hand with his shirt away, running his fingers over the arc reactor and tracing the pattern of scars around it. “I want to paint this when school is over and I have time to do it justice. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” Tony watched Steve’s blue eyes fixed on his chest, even bluer in the reflected light from the reactor. “Steve.” Those eyes drifted up to meet Tony’s. “I was really scared. I thought we were over.”

“I’m sorry.” Unhappy creases appeared beside those perfect eyes, and Tony hurried to smooth them away.

“No - no I wasn’t. I just - the thought of us being over was awful. That’s what I was trying to say. I want to keep you.” 

“Okay.” Steve tugged him even closer then slumped against his chest, trusting Tony to catch his weight. He leaned his chin against the arc reactor and looked up at Tony. “I’m not going anywhere.” Tony smiled and brought his hand up to pet Steve’s back but Steve’s phone alarm chose that moment to start blaring. “Actually, shit, I am going somewhere. I’m going to class. But metaphorically - you know what I mean.” Steve grinned, kissed Tony once, then released him, scrambling for his clothes. 

Tony laughed and got out of the way of Hurricane Steve, watching him fly around the room pulling his clothes on and finding his bag. “Tomorrow?” Tony called after him as he blasted for the door.

“Tomorrow!” Steve confirmed. “Four-ish.” He disappeared into the hall, then reappeared a moment later, trotting across the room to pull Tony in for one last kiss before he bounced away into the elevator.

Tony spent the next few hours in deep conversation with JARVIS, texted a few questions to Steve about his courses, and eventually went to sleep with a smile on his face. The next day he had to dive deep into the new energy plans for Stark Tower to distract himself from the prospect of Steve coming over. Yesterday had been so stressful, even if it had ended nicely, and he couldn’t wait for them to go back to normal.

Steve shuffled in shortly after four with a coffee the size of a hot tub and an impressive amount of red pastel in his hair. He dropped his bag by the couch and immediately crawled up into Tony’s lap. Tony’s hands wound around his waist. “How was class?”

“Red.”

“I can see that.” Tony brushed his hand through Steve’s hair but it only served to make his hand red as well. Steve stayed settled there for a moment, and Tony briefly entertained the highly unlikely idea that Steve had changed his mind about studying today. “I would like to point out - for the record - that there are about fourteen things I’d like to be doing with you right now - at least three of which would make you completely forget that you are in school at all - but I’m being very good and not doing any of them.”

Steve smiled. “And why does that need to go on the record? Which we don’t have, by the way.”

“Because I would like credit for being good.”

“You get credit for that,” Steve said, shifting a little closer and shooting Tony his heart-stopping half-smirk, “when I get credit for this course.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony teased the inside of Steve’s thigh with one hand. “I actually have something that might help with that. Come here.”

Tony eased Steve off his lap then led him over to a large open space in the workshop floor. He stood Steve in the centre and snapped his fingers. Holograms sprung to life all around Steve in a halo of information. Steve’s eyes went wide and he spun in the middle of a circle of multi-coloured screens, taking it in. “Holy shit. This - this is my course material, how did you -?” He reached out with one finger and poked a button that said “Flashcards.” 

“This depiction of "Judith Slaying Holofernes" was a popular subject matter painted by several artists in the 16th and 17th centuries.” An image appeared. “Who painted this one?” JARVIS asked.

“Holy shit,” Steve repeated. “How did you get all this?”

“That is incorrect,” JARVIS said, and Steve laughed.

“He’s just being an ass,” Tony said, smacking the flashcard button again to turn it off.

“I know.” Steve took one last spin then settled, looking through the screens at Tony instead. “How did you do this?”

Tony shrugged. “You gave me the course code. I found the lecture notes online, had JARVIS compile it with info from some of the assigned readings. It was all JARVIS. I just waved my hands a lot.”

Steve stepped forward, right through the screen, until he was pressed against Tony’s side. “Well, since I can’t thank JARVIS properly, I’ll have to thank you instead.” He tipped up onto his toes and leaned into a sweet, soft kiss. When they parted, Steve kept his nose pressed to Tony’s. 

“It’ll only work in the workshop, unfortunately,” Tony said. “So if you want a quiet space to yourself I’ll have to set you up a smaller, less impressive version on a tablet, but if you want to study here, I can go.”

“I don't want you to go.”

“I’ll distract you. With my impressive hammering and manly biceps and stuff.”

Steve chuckled. He ran a hand over Tony’s upper arm. “You’re not as distracting as you think you are.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and turned fully towards Steve, who backed away a little, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is that a challenge, Rogers?”

Steve held up a hand. “Don’t you dare. I need one hour.”

Tony stopped his advance. “Fine. One hour? You want me to go?”

“No, no, of course not. You need to work too. I’ll go upstairs with the tablet if your manly biceps become too much for me to handle.” He winked.

“Okay, fair deal.” Steve went back inside the screens and opened the flashcards again. Tony sat at his desk and pulled his headphones on, cranking his music. He asked JARVIS to warn him when an hour was up and set to work, diving into his SI emails in a way that would make Pepper faint with surprise.

The hour flew by, and Tony was startled when JARVIS cut into his music to let him know. He glanced over and Steve was gesticulating wildly at his screens, his mouth moving rapidly. Tony watched him for a while with a smile. There was that fierce energy that first drew Tony in. Steve was pacing around the space as he walked, the holoscreens following him as he moved. Tony pushed out of his chair and snuck up on Steve, grabbing him from behind and pulling him against his chest.

Steve yelped in surprise then relaxed back against Tony’s chest. “Is it an hour already?”

“It is. How’s he doing, J?”

“Based on my calculations, I would expect Mr. Rogers to receive a grade between 85 and 95 percent.”

“Mm, nicely done.” Tony pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s face.

“Really? Wow. That’s amazing. Not the grade, that he knows that. I mean that would be great too, if I could get an A, but yeah.” Steve paused. “Okay, maybe my brain is a little fried.”

“So, you done?”

Steve glanced at his watch. “I should do another hour before bed, but yeah. I should take a break for a while, let it settle in.” Steve made to spin in Tony’s arms, but Tony held him tight.

“I believe I said something about a prize…”

“Tony.” Steve squirmed in his arms, rubbing his ass against Tony’s leg. 

Tony’s left hand came up to rest against the base of Steve’s throat while his right wandered down to the zipper on his pants. Steve’s head tipped forward, and Tony dove in for the back of his neck, biting down hard then soothing after with a series of soft kisses. Steve folded, leaning his weight back against Tony, trying to find friction somewhere, somehow, but Tony held him fast. Without removing the hand that gently circled Steve’s throat, Tony popped the button on Steve’s pants and pushed the fabric aside until he could work his hand into Steve’s boxers. Steve gasped as Tony wrapped his hand around his cock and shifted his feet on the floor, arching up into Tony’s touch. 

“Tony,” he repeated. “Please.”

“Shh, slow down.” Tony slid his hand lower, circling the base of Steve’s cock then brushing back up over his thigh. Steve made a series of cut off sounds as Tony stroked him, teased him, and every one of them shot straight to Tony’s cock. He could feel the heat of Steve’s ass pressed against him, and he wanted to bend him over and take him right there. But it had also been what felt like a long time since they’d had this and Tony wanted to take his time and enjoy it. 

He worked Steve’s pants lower, down over his hips, then Tony hooked his left hand under Steve’s shirt, settling it back at Steve’s throat but pressed against his bare chest There was something thrillingly filthy about having Steve in half-dressed disarray, held tight against Tony’s body, unable to move, while Tony stood, fully-dressed still and together, behind him. He shuffled to the side a little, turning Steve’s body until he could just make out their shared reflection in the glass workshop door. 

Tony took Steve in hand again, stroking him slowly, watching his hand move in the reflection. Steve reached up and gripped Tony’s arm with both hands, holding on as if he didn’t trust his feet anymore. As erotic as it was watching them move in the glass, Steve’s neck was a draw Tony could no longer resist, and he bent his mouth to it and worked at the skin behind Steve’s ear. He dropped his chin to where his hands gripped Tony’s forearm, baring the back of his neck to Tony’s onslaught. Tony never increased his pace, sliding his palm up Steve’s cock, twisting it around the head, then back down again in a grip just tight enough to tease without finding him release. 

Steve gasped out and his hips jerked forward when Tony tightened his grip ever so slightly, but his hold on Steve’s chest didn’t loosen, and Steve had no choice but to hang there, letting Tony control the pace. “Your body feels so amazing,” Tony whispered in his ear. “I could do this all day.”

Steve moaned and it broke into a whimper.  _ “I  _ couldn’t.” 

“Want more?”

“Mhm.” Steve tried to arch into the touch again.

Tony gripped a little tighter, moved a little quicker as he stroked down, and Steve gasped, his hands clenching and unclenching on Tony’s arm. Steve’s cock was firm, smooth heat in Tony’s hand and he revelled in the way Steve’s hips jerked into his touch. He rolled his palm over the head and spread around the precum that leaked out. For a few long minutes, the only sounds in the workshop were the slick slide of Tony’s hand and their shared breaths panted out.

Steve started shaking in Tony’s arms, and Tony picked up the pace, but Steve’s hand squeezed hard, digging his fingernails into Tony’s arm. “Wait.” 

Tony stopped. “What’s wrong?”

Steve moaned in frustration and chased Tony’s hand with his hips. “Ah, fuck - I want - I want to come on your cock. Please.”

“Jesus, Steve.” Tony’s arm tightened across Steve’s chest, and he choked out a sharp breath before Tony took control of his own body again and loosened his hold. He was painfully hard and untouched, but he hadn’t even thought about it until Steve had begged for it. “Okay, okay, let me grab stuff, hold on.” He released his hold on Steve slowly, making sure he found his balance again after being supported by Tony for so long. Steve wobbled for a moment, then set about pulling his clothes off with such intensity that Tony dashed across the workshop to grab lube as fast as he could, shedding his own shirt, shoes, and socks as he went. 

He returned to Steve’s back and pressed his chest against it, realizing that sometime surprisingly early on, he’d stopped worrying about whether the cold glass and metal of the reactor would be uncomfortable for the other man. Tony kicked his way out of his pants and Steve pressed back against him, letting Tony’s cock slide against the smooth skin of his bare ass. “Ah, you feel so good,” Tony groaned.

When Steve dropped to his knees at Tony’s feet, still facing away, then to his hands and looked up, over his shoulder at Tony like he was the only thing worth seeing in the world, Tony’s damaged heart skipped several beats. There was a dusting of pink across Steve’s cheeks and he couldn’t stay still, his body too desperate for relief to stop him from twisting and writhing, but he kept his hand off his cock, presenting his ass to Tony, begging with his eyes to be taken.

Tony wasn’t entirely sure that at this point he could have stopped, even if he wanted to, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to. He dropped to his knees behind Steve, ignoring their subtle reminder that he was no longer twenty-two, and took both of his hips in his hands. Steve had dropped his chin back down, but he was still facing the glass door and Tony could see the way his mouth fell open when Tony’s finger brushed his hole, the way his eyelids fluttered and his chest heaved. Tony didn’t take his time, he slid his finger in deep, finding Steve’s prostate immediately and pressing against it until Steve cried out then pulled back and slid in again, with two fingers this time.

The intensity of his need faded a bit, once he had Steve squirming on his fingers, and Tony slowed down, reverting to the easy, teasing pace he’d been working up to with his hand. He rubbed against Steve’s prostate from the inside and out, his other hand petting Steve’s hip and thigh in time with his movements. He focused not on working Steve open, but on setting him wild, pushing in deep and pulling back torturously slowly until Steve was a sobbing, whimpering mess.

Steve’s head dropped between his arms, his eyes squeezed shut now, and he begged, pleaded, for more, eventually breaking into nothing but Tony’s name over and over, desperately. But Tony didn’t give in, not yet. He used his hold on Steve’s hip to rock him back to meet every thrust of his fingers, but set the pace himself, even as Steve shook and pushed and tried to find a faster one.

“Oh god, please, please, _ TonyTonyTony, _ touch me, I can’t, please, please,” Steve babbled helplessly, rocking back hard in his grip. His words broke off into near-soundless gasps and cries, pleading with every inch of his body. Tony sat back until he knelt on the floor and grabbed Steve around the waist, easing him back, shifting his legs to either side of Tony’s, then pulling him down until he sunk onto Tony’s cock in one smooth slide. “Fuck, fuck, yes, Tony, I -” Steve’s hands scrambled for support, and Tony grabbed them, putting both in one of his and locking them to Steve’s chest with one arm.

And, god, he felt so good, like molten lava, slick, smooth and so fucking hot. Tony thrust forward, rocking in as deep as he could, then pushing Steve up with his free hand only to let him go again. Steve picked up quickly on what Tony was urging him to do and they rocked together. Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off the reflection in the glass. Blurry as it was, he could see Steve rise up then sink down again, Tony’s arm locked around his chest, Steve’s eyes, half-closed and out of focus, mouth open, back arched - that was art.

Steve’s wordless moans crept higher in pitch, his body losing its strength. He tried to rock forward again, but couldn’t, whimpering. Tony broke - that was enough with slow, with endless, with teasing - they were both on the edge and couldn’t take it anymore. He rose up and spun Steve until his hands were braced against the arm of the sofa next to him, knelt behind him, took his hips in hand and fucked into him, hard. Steve cried out and dropped his forehead to the sofa. Every punishing thrust of Tony’s cock broke another cry loose from Steve’s throat, filling the room with his desperate need. 

Tony reached around and took Steve’s cock in hand, and after one stroke, Steve was shaking, two and he was too breathless to moan anymore, and three, he came, hot and hard, dripping over Tony’s hand. Tony’s thrusts against his prostate drew his orgasm out with wave after wave of wracking shudders. His body clamped down on Tony’s cock, making every slide in ten times more intense. Steve was gone, nothing more than a sobbing, mewling, mess in Tony’s arms, slumped against the sofa arm, his muscles gone to jello. And Tony took him ruthlessly now, snapping his hips forward and pulling Steve back onto his cock with every thrust until the heat in his core crackled into a full on bonfire, burning and consuming until he collapsed over Steve’s back, his orgasm bursting through him, filling Steve’s ass with his come.

Tony pulled free and tipped down to the floor, slumped against the side of the couch, chest heaving, and Steve crawled over him, settling in his lap, chest to chest. He pressed kisses to Tony’s chin and cheeks and forehead, and Tony let his eyes fall shut, bathing in the feeling of Steve all around him. Steve’s hips rolled forward and he whimpered. “Tony, can I -? Is it okay if I…?” Steve’s hand wrapped gently around Tony’s cock. He was still hard, but extremely sensitive, and he hissed at the startling contact. Steve rocked back, guiding Tony to his hole again. “Is it okay? I just want to be connected to you for a little longer.”

“Yeah, yes, come here.” Tony manhandled Steve out of his lap, then back down, sliding easily into his slick hole, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming sensation. Steve sighed happily and draped himself over Tony’s chest. Once they stilled, and Tony’s nerves stopped going off like firecrackers, he wrapped his arms around Steve’s back and pressed his face into his shoulder. There was something safe and comforting about this, something that felt like a claim, ownership,  _ home.  _ Steve was his in this moment, no one else could come between them, no one else could have him. Something primal rumbled in Tony’s chest, and if someone had entered the room he wouldn’t have been surprised to have a growl slip out of his throat.

As quickly as it had flared up, the feeling subsided again, settling instead into a warm, sated comfort as Steve curled up against his chest. They stayed there for a long time. Tony’s butt was starting to get sore on the hard floor, but Steve was comfortable and he had been so stressed, Tony was hoping he would fall asleep. He contemplated moving them to the couch, but the idea of pulling free of Steve, of moving away from him, even just long enough to move was unpleasant. He stroked his fingers down Steve’s spine and there was a worrying tension there. 

“You alright?” he asked.

Steve sighed. “Yeah… I’m just thinking too loud, sorry.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I - I don’t want to graduate next month.” Tony opened his mouth in surprise, but Steve barrelled on before he could speak. “No! I mean I do, I do want to, I’ve worked so hard for this, I just -” Steve took a steadying breath and tightened his legs on either side of Tony’s thighs. “I’m  _ scared  _ to graduate next month. I’ve told you about my mom, right?”

Tony nodded. “A little.”

“She wanted this for me so badly. She could see how much I loved art, from when I was a baby, and she told me she would make it work, that someday she’d send me to art school. And she tried so hard, but I knew we didn’t make enough money, and it’s so expensive. So I kept working on it, as a hobby I loved, but I never thought it would really be my career, my life. Then she got sick, and she died.” Steve took another deep breath, and Tony ran his palm flat down his back. “I realized, after, that the insurance money I got was almost enough. It had always been her dream for me and I thought - this is what she’d want me to do with this. 

“So I worked my ass off, and in between afternoon shifts at one job and nights at another I’d paint, trying to build a portfolio that would get me in. And I honestly never thought it would happen. I thought there’d be some big, unforeseen expense I’d need to use the money for, or I’d finally get so sick I couldn’t paint anymore, or something. But it didn’t. And I raised the rest of the money I needed. And I got accepted.

“And it’s been incredible. Hard, yes, but everything I had hoped it would be as well. And in a month… it’s going to be over. I’m going to cross that stage and then wake up the next day, and then what? I’m scared. What if I can’t find a job? What if I can’t find a job in New York and I have to - have to move. I never thought past this, it was all about surviving graduation.” Steve’s arms tightened around Tony’s back.

“Steve…” Tony petted his sides, his hair. His heart clenched painfully at the thought of Steve leaving New York so he pushed it out of his mind. That was something they could deal with if it came to it. “You can’t always have a perfect plan listed out that you just check off as you go through it. This is the fun part. Now you get to try things, find what makes you happy, play around, make mistakes, live. It’s good, I promise. And you’re going to be amazing at whatever you choose to do.” Tony cleared his throat. “Also… the day after graduation I know exactly what you’re going to do.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. You’re going to sit on a beach in the smallest bathing suit I can find for you and drink sangria with enough sunblock on to drown a baby elephant because there is no way this ass doesn’t burn.” Tony patted the ass in question, and Steve laughed, squirming away and making them both sigh as Tony’s cock moved inside him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Trip. You and me. For at least two weeks, possibly eight. You need a break, I need a break. So we break together and we can even spend some of it not naked.”

“Tony…”

“I know you don’t want me making a big fuss and showering you in hundred dollar bills - though now that I think about it that’s a very appealing visual - but this is a gift, a grad gift for you. And a gift for me too. Don’t deny me my gift, Steven.”

Steve sighed again, but it was affectionate this time. “I guess. It does sound nice. It wasn’t too expensive, was it?”

“If that’s what you need to hear. I absolutely did not buy a new house and forty acres of land in the Caribbean just so I could suck you off against a window and not worry about nosy neighbours getting scandalized.”

Steve leaned back and eyed Tony. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Probably all for the best.” He tugged Steve close again. “I can’t wait to see you graduate, if that helps.”

Tony could feel Steve smiling against his shoulder. “It does.”

**

Over the next two weeks, Steve made sure to make plans with Tony so he knew when they would see each other again, and Tony made sure not to bother Steve in the meantime. In the end, Steve still texted him near constantly, the only long breaks being when he was covered in paint or in class. They didn’t have another date until Tuesday, so Tony was surprised when JARVIS announced on Sunday afternoon that Steve was in the tower.

Tony pushed up off the couch where he’d been reading and went to meet Steve at the elevators. When the doors opened, his eyebrows shot to the roof. “What on earth happened to you?” There was a long, painful-looking cut across Steve’s cheek, no longer bleeding, but a trail of dried blood coated his jaw. One of his eyes was purpling around the edges, on its way to a truly impressive black eye.

Tony grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him into the light of the penthouse, turning him to the side to get a better look.

“You should see the other guy,” Steve said meekly.

“You got in a fight?” Tony’s hand clenched, and he released Steve’s arm before he hurt him. The low growl that always sat in wait in Tony’s chest when he was around Steve roared up and threatened to burst free.

“Yeah. I started it. Well, he started it by being an asshole, but I turned it into a fight.”

Tony sighed. “Come here. I’ve cleaned enough of these in my day.” He wound his fingers through Steve’s left hand, noticing the bloodied, scraped knuckles on the right and pulled him towards the living room. After depositing him on the couch, Tony grabbed his first aid kit and a wet washcloth from the bathroom.

“Why’s that?” Steve called from the living room.

Tony returned with his supplies. “Iron Man. Not as comfy a ride as it looks. Especially if you take a U-Haul to the face.”

Steve winced in sympathy, then again for real when Tony pressed the washcloth to his cheek.

“So, spill the beans, Rogers. Surely I at least get a good story for cleaning you up.”

Steve sighed. He leaned sideways against the back of the couch, hooking his leg up and around Tony’s side. Tony leaned into it, turned to the side to get better access to Steve’s face, the first aid kit spilled all over his lap. “Peggy and I were on campus getting coffee, and this dick that’s in one of my classes and always bothers her kept yelling her name, then called her a cunt when she didn’t answer. He came up behind us.” Steve shrugged. “So I hit him.”

“What did he do?”

Steve pointed at his face. “That.” When Tony chuckled and rolled his eyes, Steve shrugged again. “At least beating me up got his attention off Peggy.”

Tony set the facecloth down and stared. Steve scowled at the couch as if it was personally responsible for all the bullies in the world. “God, you’re incredible, you know that?”

Steve’s eyes snapped to Tony’s, and his scowl melted. “You don’t think I’m an idiot for getting into a fight I can’t win?”

“Oh no, you’re definitely an idiot. There are much better ways to handle that kind of thing. But, I also think you’re incredible.”

“An incredible idiot.”

“My incredible idiot,” Tony corrected.

“So what are the better ways?”

“One minute.” Tony finished cleaning Steve up. He didn’t need any stitches and his knuckles were scabbed over well enough that he didn’t need bandaging either. Tony tossed the supplies back in the bathroom and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. He wrapped it in a towel and handed it to Steve who pressed it to his eye. “What was his name?”

“Gil Hodge.”

“J, run a scan on him. The usual stuff - outstanding warrants, tickets, scholarships, incriminating videos, that kind of thing.” A screen appeared above the coffee table and information started scrolling across it. Tony read and digested each piece in a heartbeat, pulling this man’s entire existence off of the internet and teasing it apart, looking for weaknesses. “Hmm I see four - no five - different things that could get him kicked out of school entirely. One could probably see him in jail.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “You can see all of that?”

“Sure.”

“Legally?”

“That’s a grey area.” Steve eyed Tony like he knew it was a very, very dark shade of grey, but he let it go.

“What kind of stuff? Really bad things? Harassment?”

“No, just kid stuff, drinking, speeding, that kind of thing.”

“Hmm.” Steve chewed the corner of his thumbnail. “I don’t want to ruin his whole life, just, you know, teach him a lesson.”

“Alright, how about this. He’s still got another year before he graduates. He got a scholarship for his dorm. According to his twitter, his parents wanted him to stay home, but he got a scholarship to stay in the dorm because his commute would be over an hour.” Tony’s eyes flicked across the screen. “But! I have evidence here, on his social media, traffic cams, police reports etcetera, that he’s violated the rules of that dorm at least seven times and he just hasn’t been caught. I send that in to his RA and he’s getting punted. Next semester he’ll have to live with his parents.”

Steve stared at Tony for a moment. “I don’t want to put his parents through that.”

“Nah, apparently they wanted him at home. Probably hoping they could keep the asshole in check. He’s the one that broke the rules, we’re just passing that info along.”

Steve thought it over then shrugged. “Yeah, okay.” He was silent while Tony directed JARVIS to send the info over anonymously. “That’s a lot of power.” There was something crackling behind Steve’s words, the  _ click click  _ of a live electric fence. And Tony wasn’t sure if he wanted to touch it or not.

“It is,” he replied flatly. “Welcome to Tony Stark.” Tony waved a hand and the screen disappeared. He slumped against the back of the couch and took a steadying breath. “This is the longest relationship I’ve ever been in.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah. People don’t stick around once they realize it’s not just fast cars and more money than god. They don’t like this.” Tony gestured vaguely to his head. “Or the information, the access. It’s - look I could track you all the time. I could know where you are any minute of the day, follow you to school without ever leaving my desk. Every time you went out, I could know if you went where you said you did. It would be easy - too easy. That’s a lot of trust.”

Steve rested the unbruised side of his face on Tony’s shoulder. He was quiet for a long time. “I like Tony Stark.” He tipped his eyes up to meet Tony’s. “And I trust you.”

A few hours later, Steve was sprawled on Tony’s couch, his headphones on, ice pack pressed to his jaw, working on practice sketches for his final project, when Tony’s screen flickered to life with an alert. JARVIS ran through the information, tracking Tony’s eye movements and matching the reading speed easily. Some Stark weapons had been spotted in Ghazni and had been used to take out a military convoy. Tony’s heart clenched as he thought of Rhodey, but JARVIS assured him that he wasn’t in the province at the time. Tony told JARVIS to save the rest for the trip and stood. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve pulled out his earbuds.

“I have to go.”

Steve frowned, clearly sensing the tension in Tony’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Iron Man stuff. I have to go to Afghanistan. I hope it’ll only be a few hours and I’ll be back. You alright? Or you want me to call Happy to take you home?”

The blood drained out of Steve’s face. “No, no. I want to be here. When you come home. So I know…”

“Okay.” Tony took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll have JARVIS keep you posted okay? He’ll let you know as soon as I’m… done… and on my way home. Good?”

“Perfect.”

“Alright.” Tony stood, and Steve followed him, leaning against the doorway as Tony walked out to the landing pad and heard his bots whir to life. He stepped backwards onto the pad and kept his eyes on Steve while the bots built the suit around him. As they snapped the plates in place and screwed them on, Steve’s expression shifted, from worried to something else. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. One hand came up to grip the doorframe as if he was afraid he’d slip to the floor. The second the bots were down Tony shot across the landing pad, back to Steve. He snapped the faceplate up and brought one metal-covered hand to Steve’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

“I -” Steve’s eyes flitted all over Tony, down to his feet and back up to his face. “I’ve -” Steve swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“Do what - You mean put the armour on?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What’s wrong?"

“No, no.” Steve’s voice had pitched up, cracking on the second no. “Not wrong. That was just - that was really hot.”

As the worry drained away, it was replaced with something else, something heated. “Oh yeah?” Tony cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, and I know I shouldn’t say that because you’re never going to let it go, you egomaniac, but yes, fuck, that was incredible. You’re so... “ Steve’s eyes raked over Tony again and even through the layers of metal, Tony could feel it brush his skin. He reached forward and tugged Steve into a bruising kiss, clutching him against the chest of the armour and swallowing his whimper.

“I’ll be home soon. Wait for me.”

“You’d better fucking believe it,” Steve gasped breathlessly.

Tony took a step back, snapped the faceplate down, and shot off into the sky, leaving a stunned, overwhelmed-looking Steve behind on the landing pad. 

When he came back, Steve made a valiant attempt at sucking Tony’s brain out of his dick until Tony couldn’t stand it anymore and tossed Steve up on the bed. He fucked him wildly and recklessly, only slowing down to kiss his way over Steve’s scraped knuckles and bruised cheek. He took Steve and claimed him, letting the intense roiling possessiveness in his core spill over and wrap around Steve, taking him back from anyone who dared touch him - anyone who wasn’t Tony. They came together, wound tight and shook apart, until each other’s names were the only words either of them could mutter.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Painting calmed the chaos that shook my soul” - Nikki de St.Phalle_

“I’ll admit,” Tony said over a crack of thunder, “that it might have been a good idea to check the forecast before suggesting mini golf.”

Steve laughed, despite the streaks of rain pouring down his face. He was soaked through, his t-shirt and jeans clinging to his small frame. The Spring air wasn’t too cold, but Steve’s lips were turning pale blue and his arms were tight around his chest. Tony wrapped an arm over his shoulders, tugging him close, trying to offer a little of his body heat. “You’re just trying to get out of it because you know you were going to lose.”

“Uh, are you suggesting I made it rain because you were beating me?”

Steve shrugged. “I dunno. You always say that enough money can solve any problem.”

Tony laughed and waved a hand at a passing cab. It pulled to a halt at the curb, and he bustled Steve in before getting in himself. “True, but I think you may have actually found the limit of that in controlling the weather.”

The cabbie had the a/c cranked high to clear the humidity from the windows, and by the time they pulled up to Stark Tower, they were both shivering. Up in the penthouse, Tony wasted no time in stripping Steve out of his wet clothes. They both left piles of sodden clothing in the bathroom and made a beeline for Tony’s bed. JARVIS brought the heat up in the room while they snuggled down naked under extra layers of blankets.

“Holy fuck!” Tony shuffled back as Steve pressed his ice cold feet against his calves.

“You made me go mini golfing in the rain, this is your punishment,” Steve said, chasing him to the other side of the bed and applying his feet again, even higher this time. 

“I didn’t know it was going to rain!” Tony grabbed Steve’s wrists and tried to wrestle him back to his side of the bed, but Steve used the leverage to walk his way up Tony’s body and get his feet flat against Tony’s stomach. “Ah! You little shit! They’re so cold.” The scuffle continued, Steve carrying over his winning streak post-mini golf, until Tony finally managed to hook an arm around Steve’s waist and pull him close. He realized that he was better off with Steve tight against him and his feet pointing down, than far enough away that Steve could aim for whatever sensitive bits he wanted to.

Tony rolled on top of Steve, smothering him with his body and trapping his feet between his own. Steve hummed contentedly and snuggled into the hold. Tony sighed. “You know, if this was what you wanted you could have just asked.”

“Nah, the fight warmed me up. This is what I want now, though.” And it was true, the scuffle had gotten Tony’s blood flowing again, and he was starting to approach feeling like a human instead of a damp popsicle. Though, popsicle was an attractive thought, depending on who would be doing the sucking. “I can hear you thinking dirty thoughts.”

“Shut up, you cannot.”

“I can.”

“No.” Tony wiggled his hips. “You can probably feel me thinking dirty thoughts, though.”

Steve giggled, and it warmed Tony more than the blankets. “Dirty old man.”

“Hey! Watch it.” Tony shifted around until he was lying with his weight on the mattress, but still blanketed over Steve. Steve turned into his hold, pressing his face to Tony’s chest with a happy sigh. They were quiet for a long time. “Have I ever told you I’m Iron Man?” Tony asked.

“Tony. You already have me, you don’t have to keep trying to pick me up. Also, yes, you might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Just making sure.” Tony buried his nose in the soft hair behind Steve’s ear.

When they were warm enough to relax into the sheets, and once Tony was sure Steve wasn’t at risk of being overly chilled and getting sick, they turned the TV on and argued about which movie to watch - which ended up being pointless anyway because they both fell asleep before the opening credits were done.

A few short hours after, Tony twisted his hand and watched the wireframe projection spin slowly on the desk in front of him. Something still wasn’t right, but he almost had it. He glanced at the clock - 4am - Steve wouldn’t be up for a while yet. He wanted to make him breakfast, or, more accurately, order breakfast that wouldn’t be charred and cold at the same time, so he didn’t want to lose track of time. It’d be nice for Steve to wake up to eggs and bacon for once instead of coffee and more coffee. 

Really, he would have preferred to stay in bed with Steve, but he had woken up at 2 with his mind abuzz with ideas, and with Steve asleep, there would be no ignoring them. When Steve was awake and caged in Tony’s arms, writhing and moaning, Tony’s mind was able to narrow, focus, go to a still, easy, place where he didn’t have to think about anything except Steve’s pleasure. But all the time off his mind was getting during sex meant it was raring to go at double speed the rest of the time. 

Tony zoomed into the blueprints focusing on the flight stabilizers on the right arm and twisted them left and right, watching for errors. He was opening his mouth to ask JARVIS to bring up the same parts for the Mark III so he could compare when the door opened with a woosh. Tony looked up to see Steve standing in the doorway. And his heart stopped.

Steve was wearing one of Tony’s Stark Industries hoodies, about forty sizes too big for his tiny frame, and a pair of Tony’s boxers with Iron Men heads dotted across a black background. He yawned and reached up to cover his mouth, the sleeve of the hoodie covering his entire hand. Tony knew he was staring but  _ fuck  _ Steve literally had Tony’s name emblazoned across his chest, how the fuck was he supposed to react to that?

“What are you doing up?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound like it hadn’t just been run over by a cement mixer full of intense, possessive feelings.

Steve padded over, his bare feet tapping across the floor of the workshop. He yawned again and nuzzled his nose against Tony’s shoulder. “Woke up. You were gone. Wondering if you’d been called out.” Steve made a vague gesture, and Tony realized he meant called out as Iron Man.

“Oh shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I had an idea I couldn’t shake. It happens. A lot actually.

“S’okay,” Steve mumbled. “I asked JARVIS and he said you were down here so I thought I’d come check on you.”

Tony plucked at the soft fabric draped over Steve’s stomach. “Where’d you find this?”

“Oh yeah, my stuff was still wet. Do you mind?” Steve flicked his eyes up to meet Tony’s, gazing through his long lashes in a way that he said he knew for a fact that Tony didn’t mind in the slightest.

Tony hummed and tugged at the hoodie until Steve hooked his legs over Tony’s and settled on his lap, chest to chest. Tony buried his face in the space between the hood and Steve’s neck. He smelled like Steve but wrapped in a layer of Tony and something heated and intense thrummed and roared in Tony’s chest. He set his palms on Steve’s thighs, rubbing up and down a little when he felt how chilled his skin was. “You’re cold,” he murmured.

“Not anymore.” Steve snuggled deeper against Tony’s chest, hooking his chin over Tony’s shoulder. He yawned again, then went lax, sinking onto Tony’s lap.

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s lower back and tugged him closer, leaning back a little into his chair so Steve could slump forward bonelessly without risk of falling back. “Going back to sleep, darling?”

“Mmmm,” was all Steve seemed able to reply, and Tony chuckled. His wandering fingers found their way back to Steve’s thighs. He could almost get his hand all the way around each one. He slid his palms up, teasing his thumb along the inside of Steve’s legs and finding the edge of the boxers. They were Tony’s, so they were far too big for Steve - it was a miracle, or a crime, that they stayed up at all, really - and the legs were loose enough that Tony’s hands slid right in, the excess material gathered up around Steve’s crotch. Steve hummed again, and Tony petted even higher.

Tony’s thumb brushed the head of Steve’s cock, and Steve startled. “Sorry.” Tony went to pull his hands back but Steve caught his wrists.

“Don’t stop. I like it when you touch me.”

“You need to sleep, Steve.” Tony pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

“Mmm.” Steve yawned again. “Don’t stop though. I want to fall asleep with your hands on me. Like waking up that way too.” There was something electric wound through Steve’s words and Tony vibrated with it.

“Yeah?” Steve hummed again and settled deeper again, wriggling his hips a little until Tony’s hands continued their explorations. Tony continued to work, murmuring instructions to JARVIS so his hands could stay on Steve, stroking smooth skin and teasing the inside crease of his hip. Steve drifted off, his breathing slow and even, and Tony kept touching him, sinking into the comfortable warmth of Steve trusting him enough to sleep on his chest, enjoying his touch enough to want it even when he was asleep.

**

Tony was half-dressed and sitting at his computer when the elevator doors opened and revealed Steve, already in his suit. 

“What are you doing, Tony? We’re going to be late. Where are your pants?”

Tony looked down. Huh, he had his shirt and jacket on, but no pants. “Not sure. I had a brainwave.” He typed vigorously, trying to get his whole thought down before it fluttered away.

Steve disappeared into the bedroom and returned with Tony’s pants and a tie. He tossed the pants at Tony and started tying the tie around his own neck, layering it over his own tie, but making it a little longer. “About what?”

“I’m altering the original, building-sized, arc reactor technology to take the same core this baby does now.” Tony tapped on his chest. “But, bizarrely enough, the new element’s gamma-ray-mediated beta decay is so fucking efficient that I actually have to find a way to siphon excess power in a way that I don’t with the chest piece. Also, apparently, the lovely blue glow from the high-energy electron flux reaction is going to ‘upset the fish’ if I put it underwater, which was the plan. But I think I’ve got a solution for that...” Tony cycled a few more numbers through his head, taking notes when it lined up nicely.

“I think you made up half of those words.”

Tony leaned back to think about it as he pulled on his pants, wriggling into them without standing up and leaving them undone. “Actually, I did, in a way. This science didn’t exist before I created it so while the words themselves aren’t new, putting them together like this to mean something actually is.”

Steve grinned at him. “You’re incredible.” He looped the tie around Tony’s neck, leaving it loose.

“Not as incredible as you, Mr. Graduate.”

“You’re getting some kind of weird thrill out of that, aren’t?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Maybe.” Tony tapped out a few last notes then shut down his computer. He swiveled in his chair to face Steve, letting one hand sneak up under his jacket. Steve smacked it away before Tony could get his shirt tugged free of his belt. “I actually meant to ask you - are you out at school? I mean, do you mind if people see us together?”

Steve stared at him for a moment. “Tony, it’s art school.”

“So?” Tony couldn’t let a little nervousness sneak in. He knew that Steve’s friends knew about him - he’d met Peggy and Steve’s roommates, and Steve had at least mentioned him to Bucky, but he wasn’t sure about the world at large.

“I would never hide you.” Steve brushed the pad of his thumb over Tony’s lips. “I want everyone to know we’re together.”

“So, theoretically,” Tony drawled, hooking a finger in Steve’s belt loop and pulling him closer. He smelled like Tony’s shampoo. “If I had a sign that said, ‘That one’s mine,” that I held up while you were on stage, would it help or hinder my ability to get laid tonight?”

“Not only would it hinder,” Steve said, laughing as he crawled into Tony’s lap, “it would totally obliterate it.”

“Damn, I was so looking forward to my first time fucking an art school graduate but I already have the sign made up…” Steve smacked a hand against Tony’s chest, and Tony caught it and kissed it, shooting him a cheeky grin. Steve snatched his hand back and coughed into it, wet and rough.

“You alright?” 

Steve shook his head dismissively. “I was playing with chalk pastels yesterday. They always make me feel a bit awful. I’m fine though.” Steve looked at his phone. “Fuck, now we really are late. Come on.”

At the school, Steve abandoned Tony fairly early on, needing to get his gown on and find his place at the front. Peggy was there as a guest of Gabe and he’d gotten her ticket at the same time as Steve, so Tony found he was seated beside her. “Hi, Peggy,” he said carefully, as he slid in next to her. He still wasn’t sure where they stood. From what Steve said, Peggy seemed like someone that Tony should like, but whenever he was near her, Tony was struck with the impression that she was a very strong-willed person who didn’t take any shit from anyone. And Tony spouted a lot of shit. She also looked disappointed pretty much all the time, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was aimed at him, or at society in general.

“Hi, Tony.” Her smile seemed real enough.

Tony opened the program and tried to calculate how long it would be before he saw Steve cross the stage and become a graduate. A thrill of pleasant anticipation burst in his stomach, pride and possessiveness mixed with a small fear of the change that was inevitably ahead of them as Steve moved on to new things. It set Tony squirming in his seat.

“I’m so proud of him,” Peggy said pointedly.

“Me too.” Tony met her eyes and tried to show how much he meant it. Peggy had the expression of a guard dog, judging, evaluating, deciding if Tony should be admitted, or bitten.

They fell silent for a moment, Peggy’s eyes fixed unseeing on her program, scowling in a way that was surprisingly reminiscent of Steve. “Steve seems happy with you,” she said finally. 

Tony braced himself. “I’m glad. That’s all I want, you know, to make him happy.”

“He wasn’t happy during finals but he said you guys worked that out?” Tony could feel her testing the waters, poking the edges of the things she’d heard from Steve, from Tony’s perspective.

“Yeah, that was my fault.” He picked at the edge of his program then stopped himself - he wanted to save it, not shred it. “I forgot what’s like, being a student. It’s - uh - it’s been a while.”

“Well… it’s not just being a student. He’ll be busy when he gets a job too.”

“I know.” Tony looked up at met Peggy’s eyes. They were pinched with worry, but Tony couldn’t figure out what to say to ease them.

Peggy finally sighed. “Tony, he likes you, a lot, and I would never - I mean, I just want him to be happy… and also safe.”

Tony sat back in his chair and eyed Peggy up. “Peggy, just - just say it, okay? I won’t be offended. Say whatever is torturing you right now, we’ll get out in the open, and I’ll do a, likely shoddy, job of defending myself and you can decide, fully informed, if you’re going to hate me or not.”

“I won’t hate you, Tony. Steve is crazy about you. I’ll just -”

“You’ll worry.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Peggy’s eyes snapped to his. “I want people in Steve’s life worrying about him. Tell me what you’re worried about.”

Peggy took a deep breath, her eyes flitted to the crowd of graduates settling into their seats, then back to Tony. “You have a lot of money, and a lot of power, and Steve likes… Steve likes to be... taken care of, sometimes, and some people get the wrong idea about what that means, what he needs. And I’ve read things about you, and I’m sure most of them aren’t true but I just - I know why I like Steve, and Steve talks endlessly about why he likes you, and I guess I just… want to make sure you like him for the right reasons.”

Tony felt angry, defensive words build up in his throat, but he snapped his jaws together and made himself stop and think it out. He’d asked, Peggy had been honest. He owed her a careful response. “Did he tell you how we met?”

“At the gallery, he said. You bought the Hero painting.”

“Yeah, but I bet he didn’t tell you why I bothered to talk to him at all.” Tony’s lips twitched into a smile at the memory.

“He said you got into an argument about Iron Man.”

“Ha! Is that what he said?” Tony grinned down at his program, smoothing the edges where he’d bent them. “I made a joke to my PA which he overheard and he went on a rant about how amazing I was. That would get anyone interested, but no, that wasn’t what got me. He had his arms crossed and he was staring at the painting - while defending it vigorously - with the most intense scowl I’ve ever seen on a human being. He was setting it on fire with his eyes, all while telling me why it was a true representation. And then I found out he was the one who painted it. And, fuck, it was like that look suddenly made sense, but was also a thousand times more endearing at the same time. He both hated and loved that painting. It drives me crazy when he looks at things like that. He’s so… fierce. So passionate about everything.”

Tony took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want to hear, so I’ll just say - I’ve never met anyone like Steve. He’s smart and funny and such an asshole sometimes, but then he has this little half-smirk he does and… and he listens to me. I never really noticed that no one did until he did - does. Sometimes too much really, cause I spout nonsense half the time just to fill the space, but he listens anyway… I want to take care of him, I do. And yes, I have money and power and I’d spend all of it building Steve a golden castle to live in with peeled grapes and palm fronds and shit, but I also know he’d probably hit me if I did, so I won’t. But I will buy him clothes and take him out for fancy meals in fancy cars, because what is the point of having all of this if you can’t do nice things for the people you care about?

“As for the media, more of it is probably true than you’d be pleased to know about. I can’t really say anything to defend that - I’m famous and I’ve been in pretty low spirals in my life and those things rarely result in a nice reputation, so I earned whatever shit they say about me, I have to own that. Steve doesn’t seem to mind though... I don’t know what to say, Peggy. He loves you so much, and I can’t lie, it makes me a bit sad sometimes because I don’t know how I can ever come to know him as well as you and Bucky do, but I’m also so glad he has you in his life. I can see how happy you make him. And, if it’s at all possible, I’d like for you to like me. Because I like you, and we both like Steve.” 

Tony took a deep breath then pressed his lips together before any more crazy could spill out. Music swelled and the dean took the stage to polite applause. Before he began his speech, Peggy leaned over and whispered in Tony’s ear, “Okay.”

Tony looked up and she was smiling at him. “We good?” he asked, a little stunned that his word vomit hadn’t resulted in her calling the authorities.

She nodded. “I like you, Tony Stark.” The dean began welcoming them all to the ceremony and Peggy turned her face back towards the stage with a soft smile.

It was a while before Tony could tune into the speech, staring at Peggy in stunned silence instead.

When Steve took the stage, Tony didn’t think he’d ever clapped so hard in his life. Steve took his diploma, turned out towards the audience for a second, scanning the seats until he caught Tony’s eye. He smiled, moved the tassel on his cap, then marched off the other side of the stage. Tony was legitimately worried that he wouldn’t be able to fit all this pride, and the arc reactor, in his chest at the same time, and something was going to burst.

By the end of the night, Tony was a bit tipsy, and though Steve had drunk twice as much as he had, he was completely sober. Still, in the back of the limo on the way home, Steve slipped easily into the space where he might as well have been drunk on Tony, soft, malleable and needy, clinging to Tony’s jacket, shirt, anywhere, whimpering with desperation every time Tony’s hands touched him somewhere new.

They should have been packing for their trip, but Steve had received a surprise invitation for an interview at a small gallery in Midtown after his class’ final show. They were considering featuring him as their “Upcoming Artist” series for a few months which meant lots of amazing exposure. Tony had postponed their vacation a week, insisting that Steve do the interview asap. It was his plane, after all, it wasn’t like they had tickets to refund. So, instead of heading for the airport, they went back to the tower, and after the limo pulled away, they shed their clothes and stumbled to the bedroom. 

“I want you to ride me,” Tony gasped out between kisses, and Steve moaned in response. Tony collapsed backwards onto the bed, pulling Steve roughly on top of him. Steve was breathing hard already, and Tony scrambled for lube.

Tony settled Steve over his hips, and Steve coughed once, harsh and rough. “You alright?” Tony asked.

“Yes, god yes, please fuck me,” Steve begged, rubbing his ass on Tony’s cock. 

“Holy shit.” Tony’s hands snapped to Steve’s sides, then slid lower. He worked Steve open too rough and too fast, but he knew Steve loved it, watched his face crumple into pleasure as Tony slid two fingers deep inside him. After a few minutes, Steve knocked Tony’s hand away and shifted into place. He reached back to line up Tony’s cock, then, eyes fixed on Tony’s, started to sink down. Tony’s breath caught. “Fuck, you feel so good, oh my god.”

Steve’s fingers threaded through Tony’s pinning them into the mattress next to his head. Steve’s chin was tipped to his chest as he rolled his hips, sliding up on Tony’s cock then back down again. But for all that Steve was above him, held him down, Tony felt the thrill of control rush through his core. He knew that once Steve was a mess, barely able to support his own meagre weight, moaning and writhing on Tony’s cock, he would flip him over easily and pound him into the mattress until he couldn’t think straight, and he knew that Steve knew it too. Waiting for that moment, watching Steve crumble as he straddled his hips, drove Tony wild, every ticking gear in his mind focused on the task of taking Steve Rogers apart.

Steve moaned, picking up his rhythm, riding Tony’s cock fiercely now. Then his fingers twitched against Tony’s and he coughed again, hard. His rhythm faltered. Tony’s eyes shot open, finding Steve’s were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed. He sat back, dropping Tony’s hands and bringing his to his chest instead. He breathed in hard and it didn’t sound right.

“Steve?” Tony pushed himself up on his elbows. Steve’s eyes shot open and his cheeks coloured. 

“I - I’m -” He sucked in another wrong sounding breath. It rattled in his chest. “Okay. It’s just -”

“Shh,” Tony ran what he hoped was a soothing hand up Steve’s arm. He didn’t want him to waste breath explaining. “What can I do? It’s your asthma, right? Do you need something?”

Steve shook his head, wheezing again, then rolled off of Tony and onto his feet. Tony immediately mourned the loss of his heat, abandoned arousal fading in the face of sharp, painful worry. Steve rummaged around on the floor until he found his pants and dug his inhaler out of the front pocket. He took two hits on the inhaler, slumping back onto the edge of the bed, eyes on the carpet, face turned away from Tony. His breathing slowly settled, but he stayed quiet.

“Steve?” Tony reached over and slipped his palm over Steve’s thigh. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied flatly. His voice was still a little breathy, but without the frightening stutters from before. Steve half-stood, sliding away from Tony’s touch. “I should go.” He reached down and grabbed his pants off the floor but made no move to put them on.

“What the fuck? Why? Hey, Steve.” Tony sat up, grabbing Steve’s arm and tugging him closer. When he managed to get his forehead pressed against Steve’s, he wound their fingers together again. “What happened?”

Steve shrugged but didn’t move away. “Asthma attack. It happens. All the chalk pastel dust earlier and then...” He waved a hand towards the bed behind him. His chest rose and fell with the effort of his careful breaths.

“Do you need anything? A doctor?”

“No, no. I’m okay. It wasn’t that bad. But I shouldn’t - uh - you know, exert myself for a while.” His words were broken by short, sharp breaths in. There was a sharp edge to his sarcastic tone, failing at disguising embarrassed disappointment.

“That’s okay,” Tony said gently. “Please don’t go.” Tony tried to keep his voice soft and encouraging but the truth was that he was pretty disappointed that Steve thought the only reason for him to stay would be if they could have sex. 

Steve’s jaw worked as he scowled at the carpet. “I’m gonna keep -” he breathed in, demonstrating the slight wheezing that hadn’t abated “- making noise. It’ll bother you.”

Tony frowned back, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice this time. “So, what? You were going to walk home? That sounds like a great fucking idea, Steve. Jesus, would you just look at me?” Steve sighed then brought his eyes up to meet Tony’s, hard and full of defiance. “If you really do want to go, that’s okay. But don’t go just because we can’t have sex. I just want to spend more time with you. My graduate,” he purred, smoothing Steve’s crooked hair out of his face. “And, if you really do want to go, please let me drive you home.”

Steve softened, finally giving into Tony's hold. Tony could still feel the effort of his laboured breathing and held him lightly, careful not to constrict his chest further. “I'd like to stay...” Steve finally managed, dropping his pants back on the floor.

“Thank god, I was going to beg more, Rogers. It wasn't going to be pretty.” Steve laughed, choppy and broken, but real. Tony eased him back on the bed until he was lying on his side, facing Tony. “There were going to be tears – manly tears of course -”

“Of course.”

“- and maybe a temper tantrum, throwing myself on the floor, slamming my fists, wailing, that kind of thing.”

“Honestly -” Steve's breath hitched again. “I would’ve held out if I'd known. Kinda sorry I missed it.”

Tony chuckled and brushed his fingertips down Steve's spine, getting a shiver in response. Steve brought his hands up to Tony's chest and traced around and around the arc reactor. Steve clearly liked it – he liked the cool blue glow and maybe the thrill of getting to know the secrets behind Iron Man, but Tony had the impression that he didn't really understand that the reactor was more than a trophy of survival, it was his greatest weakness. He wanted to explain it, but he didn't know how, so he settled for holding Steve in his arms, relaxing a little more with every successful breath Steve took.

After a few minutes, Steve rolled over and pressed his back against Tony's chest, tugging Tony's arm tight around his waist and holding it there. His smooth skin rubbed against Tony's cock, and Tony found himself unwillingly hardening again. He shifted, trying to get comfortable, and his erection caught on Steve's hole – still loose and slick from earlier. Steve gasped, then coughed.

“Fuck. Sorry. You're just so soft. Let me get boxers.” Tony made to roll off the bed but Steve's hand tightened around his wrist, stilling him.

“Wait.” Steve's hips shifted, and Tony groaned.

“You're killing me, Rogers,” he whined.

“Do you -” Steve squirmed a little, his chest still struggling a little to expand. “Is it okay if I...” Steve shifted again and the head of Tony's cock slipped inside, just past the rim of muscle. They moaned in tandem.

“Steve stop, you shouldn't – I don't want to hurt you.”

“It's fine – I'm fine.” Steve said, but Tony could hear the unsteadiness in his breathing ramping up again. “Please, we don't have to move, but I just want to feel you...” He was quiet for a moment. “I like feeling you fill me up even if you don't move. Is it okay?”

Tony rocked forward as slowly as he could, sliding back into Steve's heat. He spread his fingers wide over Steve's belly, holding him close, but not tight enough to make it harder to breathe. At first it was torture staying still when his body screamed at him to move, but after a few minutes, he settled into the pleasant warmth of Steve around him, against him. Steve tipped his face around, looking over his shoulder, and Tony pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” Steve blinked long languid. “Feels good.”

Tony moved, just a little, rocking a bare inch in and out of Steve, murmuring soft praise against the back of his head. Steve relaxed into it, petting his fingers absentmindedly over the back of Tony's hand. He wasn't hard, but his body shifted, encouraging Tony to settle deeper inside him, wrap tighter around him. The occasional heaving of Steve's lungs had disappeared and he was breathing almost normally now. Tony's chest let go of a tension of its own that he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. “Wanna sleep?”

“Mmm,” Steve purred then snuggled closer, his ankles hooking around Tony's. When it became clear that Steve was going to drop off, Tony move to slide free, but Steve's hand clenched around his wrist. “Feels good,” he slurred again.

Tony stayed awake for a long time, watching Steve sleep in his arms, still buried deep inside him. He wanted this all the time, every night, wanted to wake up to it every morning. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so willing to draw someone so deep into his life, but even though they really hadn’t been together that long, he couldn't imagine being without Steve.

Eventually, he drifted away as well. When they both woke, Steve had a minor freakout about facing the first day post-graduation, until Tony pulled him back flush against his chest and fucked him as deeply as he could until they were both sweaty and sated.

They ended up spending the day in Tony's workshop. Tony had work to do on a new model of the armour, and Steve started the process of turning his completed schoolwork into a professional portfolio in preparation for his interview next week. The hours flew by. Tony ordered lunch and dinner, and to his delight, Steve showed no signs of wanting to leave. Tony never wanted him to.

They were both working quietly on their own things when Steve looked up from his sketchbook. “Oh yeah, sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel Thursday. Gabe and Jim are going to be home after all.”

Tony sighed, then set down the screwdriver and leaned on the armour, turning to face Steve. He’d been looking forward to Thursday. “I think you should live somewhere with fewer roommates -”

“I’d love to but I can barely afford to be where I am.”

Tony barrelled on, ignoring Steve completely. “- and it’s pretty inconvenient having you a whole tunnel away, cause then you get home from class, and I finish work, and neither of us wants to -”

“I get that it’s a trek for you, Tony, and I’d love to have more space for us but -”

“- go all the way back out, but I’ll be honest I hate the nights that I don’t get to see you. And if it’s too much, or too fast, or whatever you can still have your own bedroom -”

“- rent is insane right now. I could ask my roommates to make themselves scarce more often, but -”

“- and my driver can take you to interviews or work, when you get a job, not that you have to if you just want to paint, so you don’t have to spend more time on the subway. It’s good, right? Yeah, that’s good.”

“- it’s not really fair to them. And I don’t think I can afford to move out even if I get this show, as silly as it seems for someone my age to be living with three other people but -”

Tony jumped off the step stool and crossed the room to stand in front of Steve, listening to him as he barrelled on about the state of the rental market in Brooklyn. “Steve,” Tony interrupted and Steve finally quieted. “I’m trying to ask you to move in with me. Why won’t you let me?”

Steve’s mouth fell open. “I -” He stared up at Tony, then set his sketchbook carefully aside. “What?”

“I want you to move in with me. Then you’ll have more space, and I’ll have more you. You can have your own bedroom, if you want, if you don’t want to share all the time. But, yeah.” Tony gestured towards the large hole still torn through the wall for the prismatic accelerator. DUM-E had carefully pinned a sketch Steve had done of him over the hole, but it barely covered the top edge, wafting gently with the change in air pressure every time someone closed a door on that floor. “That’s already, you know, partially dismantled. So I can make it a proper door and we can turn that storage room into a studio for you and move all the rest of that stuff, I dunno, to Pepper’s condo or something. She’ll like that.”

Steve continued to gape at him. “I - I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, personally - and I might be a bit biased here - but personally I think you should say ‘yes.’” Steve burst out laughing. Tony sunk down onto the couch next to him and ran his palm flat over Steve’s thigh. “You don’t have to say anything about it now though. Think about it.”

Steve turn to look up at him, beaming now. “No, I… Okay. Yeah - yes. Let’s - uh - live together. Wow.”

“Awesome.” Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and tugged until the other man was spread out over his chest, warm and right. He buried his face in Steve’s hair and breathed him in. 

Steve let himself be held for a while, then pulled back and eyed Tony like he was thinking something through. Finally, he said, “There is something we haven’t talked about that we probably should.”

“Two,” Tony quipped easily, “A boy and a girl. Tony Jr. and Tony Jr. 2 because, frankly, I’m amazing.”

Steve laughed and smacked a hand against Tony’s chest. “No, I mean - I mean, you spend a lot of money on me. And I -”

“Hey, babe, don’t worry about that. You know I don’t -”

“I know it’s not a lot for you. But it’s a lot to me, and it just feels…”

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. But I don’t do it because I feel obligated, or I don’t like the stuff you have, or whatever, but I have more money than I could ever possibly spend and I don’t want to see you stressed, or sad, or hungry, when you don’t need to be.”

“I know.” Steve traced a swirling pattern on Tony’s chest with one finger.

“Hey, you’d buy me a cup of coffee, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“And you wouldn’t care if I didn’t pay you back, right?”

“Course not.”

“Okay. Well, the cup of coffee is to your annual expenses as that Bentley is to how much I make in a week. And I’m not saying that for some kind of dick measuring thing, it’s just, proportionally, don’t complain that I spend too much on you without asking for anything back until I level an entire city block and build a Steve Rogers Theme Park on it and only you’re allowed to go.”

Steve broke into a warm smile, his eyes still stuck on Tony’s chest. Then his eyes flicked up to meet Tony’s and,  _ fuck,  _ Tony would build thirty of those theme parks to keep Steve looking at him like that. “Okay.”

“Okay, good. I’ll get some movers with lovely biceps in to pack your stuff up. When do you want to move?”

“Uh, give me a week. I have to pack some of my painting stuff specially.” Steve shifted up until he was straddling Tony’s hips and spread his palms over Tony’s stomach. “I can’t believe you’re getting me to move to Manhattan.”

“Oh don’t worry, I know I can take the boy out of Brooklyn, but I’ll never get the Brooklyn out of the boy.” 

Steve’s smile shifted dark and heated, and Tony felt his cock respond immediately to the look like Pavlov’s fucking dick. “You could put some Manhattan in the boy too, though.”

Tony bust out laughing, wrapping his arms around Steve’s back and wrestling him down against his chest. “That is the worst pickup line you’ve ever used on me, Rogers.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Steve ground his thigh against Tony’s rapidly growing erection. 

“Nah, that’s just the Steve effect.” He pushed up into the heat of Steve’s crotch, his hands wandering down Steve’s back.

“Let’s go test out  _ our  _ bed,” Steve whispered against Tony’s ear, and he sprung up, arms full of Steve and took off for the bedroom.

They didn’t make it to the bed, but they tested out  _ their  _ couch,  _ their  _ coffee table, and a solid portion of  _ their  _ living room carpet.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Drawing makes you see things clearer, and clearer and clearer still, until your eyes ache.” - David Hockney_

“Would you put that down?”

Steve grunted. The box was so big, Tony couldn’t even see the top of his head over it. “I’m - good.”

“Steve. I hired many, very talented, very muscular, movers to do that for you. Put that down and ogle like a normal person.”

Steve struggled all the way into his new studio space - legitimately  _ growling  _ when Tony tried to take the box - then set it down in the corner. His cheeks were pink and his breath was worryingly choppy.

“Hey, Steve.” Tony grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. He dropped his voice low. “Seriously. Please don’t do that.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know. Damn fine, even. But if you throw your back out, how can I do this?” Tony grabbed him roughly around the waist and bent over him, kissing him hard, folding him backwards and nearly sweeping his feet off the ground. Steve made a surprised squeak that morphed into a high pitched moan as Tony brushed the seam of his lips with his tongue.

There was a polite cough behind them, and they broke apart to find two of the aforementioned muscular movers holding a large, heavy-looking box each. “Right there would be great.” Tony pointed next to Steve’s box. 

Getting Steve to leave the movers alone was a tentative dance of distraction, begging, bossing, and choosing your battles. Steve insisted on dragging in and setting up his art equipment by himself, occasionally letting Tony take the other end of something, but with quite a lot of scowling. Tony had to hand him his inhaler - along with a pointed look - twice, but it didn’t deter Steve. Tony had also ordered a Michael’s worth of art supplies as well, as yet another graduation gift. That had been faced with a lot of grumbling, until Tony had shoved a package of new hog hair brushes into Steve’s arms and his pupils had turned into little hearts.

By the end of the day, they were sweaty, sore, tired, and dirty, and Steve still had to be dragged away from his new studio by the back of his shirt to prevent him from immediately diving into a new project. In the end, the only way Tony got Steve’s full attention was to peel his own shirt off and shove Steve up against the wall, one thigh pushed between his legs.

“Unnh,” Steve choked out.

“Eloquent.”

“Ah -” Steve ground down onto Tony’s thigh. “How can you expect me to - a - word - like -”

Tony leaned forward, one elbow on either side of Steve’s head. Steve was overheated and sweaty and had a streak of something dark and unpleasant across his forehead. “We are disgusting. Take a shower with me?”

Steve didn’t answer, instead, he dropped his hands to Tony’s pants and started working them off. Tony laughed and backed up towards the bathroom, letting Steve shed his clothes as they went, then helping him out of his. They left a trail of dirty clothing down the hall and into the bathroom where JARVIS already had the jets hot and steamy.

Tony crowded Steve up against the side of the shower, briefly unable to decide which felt better - Steve’s erection pressing against his thigh, or the pounding water scraping the day’s hard labour off his back. “So, you like your new studio?”

Steve moaned and tipped his head back and to the side, baring his neck to Tony. Tony took the invitation. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re amazing,” Tony mumbled, losing the thread of the conversation when faced with all of Steve’s smooth skin, wet and aching to be touched. The dark smudge was still on Steve’s forehead, so Tony eased him under the jets and combed the water through his hair. Steve sighed, melting into the touch, so Tony spun him around and leaned him against his chest. With his eyes squeezed shut, Steve tipped his chin to his chest and let Tony get him clean. He scrubbed sweet, coconut-scented shampoo into Steve’s hair and realized with a burst of possessive heat that Steve would always smell like him now, like home, like  _ their  _ shampoo. They would smell the same.

He continued to work Steve clean, scrubbing his skin with a soft cloth, letting the move wash down the drain. When Steve was spotless and dopey, humming happily with his eyes closed and his body clean, Tony hurried himself through his own shower ritual, not wanting to waste the opportunity for a wet, soft, happy Steve in his arms.

When he was spick and span himself he drew Steve back against his chest and nibbled his way across his shoulder, finding a spot on the end of his shoulder blade that made Steve gasp and squirm. Sliding his hands down Steve’s arms, he then wound his fingers through Steve’s and drew his hands up to the wall of the shower stall. He placed them, palms flat, on the tile and held them for a moment, waiting until Steve sunk into it, braced himself, shifted to show that he would keep them there without Tony needing to ask. 

Tony kissed a line down Steve’s spine, eventually sinking to his knees behind him, but Steve made a twisted, broken noise, his whole body twitching, and Tony leapt to his feet again, catching his hand on the rail to keep from slipping. “What -  are you okay?” He caught the side of Steve’s face with two fingers and turned him to look at his face but his eyes were screwed shut.

“Tony are you - were you - are you going to -?” Steve swallowed hard. 

Tony brushed the back of his hand over Steve’s ass. “Yeah… do you not like that?”

“I - fuck - I  _ love  _ that. I’m - ugh - I can come just from your mouth on me.” His voice shifted small and high-pitched, breaking.  _ “Please.” _

Tony’s cock screamed,  _ “UM YES,” _ and Tony had to press his face between Steve’s shoulder blades and take a breath. “Well, challenge fucking accepted.” He dropped back down to his knees, and Steve groaned.

“Holy fuck.” Steve slammed his forehead against the tile so hard Tony winced at the sound.

“Easy there, cowboy.”

“Tony, I swear to god -” Steve choked out, but before he could finish his sentence, Tony grabbed two handfuls of his ass and buried his face between them. Steve cried out, trembling with anticipation, and Tony flicked his tongue against his hole, using one hand to pet Steve’s side soothingly. Steve broke into an impressive string of swear words, some of which Tony had never heard, or at least never heard combined so creatively, and it spurred him on. He teased at Steve’s entrance with the point of his tongue, then softened it flat to lick a long wet swathe.

Steve was usually so still, so pliant, but he couldn’t give into this. He arched and writhed and shifted, and shivered, never moving his hands from the places Tony had put them, but otherwise a tightly twisted band of frenetic energy. Tony reached up, just as the tip of his tongue probed inside, and pressed his palm, wide and flat, on the middle of Steve’s back, locking him to the tile. Steve groaned, took two deep, sobbing, breaths and gave to the pressure, slumping forward and finally stilling. His cries and curses melted into mewling whimpers and soft breaths as Tony fucked him with his tongue, plunging deep, licking, sucking. With the hand that wasn’t trapping Steve to the shower wall, Tony pressed his thumb against Steve’s prostate from the outside, finding the pressure and place that stole more of Steve’s composure and working it relentlessly.

Steve rose up on his toes, and Tony wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t sobbing for real now. None of his breaths finished without hitching and catching, stuttering out of his lungs haphazardly and carrying Tony’s name out with them more often than not. Water cascaded over Steve’s back and threatened to drown Tony, but  _ fuck  _ what a way to go. He pulled Steve’s hips towards him a little, urging him to bend at the waist, then went to town, torturing him with his tongue until Steve’s legs were shaking so badly Tony thought he might collapse. He slipped his hand between Steve’s legs, cupping his balls briefly then wrapping his hand around Steve’s cock. He hadn’t even stroked, just squeezed gently, but that was all it took. Steve shuddered, choked off a cry, and came. Tony could feel the rippling waves of his orgasm against his mouth, working his tongue in and out of Steve’s hole in rhythm with it while Steve shot come over the tile and Tony’s hand.

“Oh fuck, Tony,” he whimpered, his shaking body starting to crumple, sliding down the tile into Tony’s hold on his hip and back.

Tony caught him and eased him down, curling over his back and pressing kisses everywhere he could reach. “That was gorgeous. Fuck, you’re incredible,” Tony whispered into his skin, feeling electrified and wild himself, his cock unbelievably hard and aching, demanding touch, release. 

Keeping one hand in Steve’s hair, Tony stood to change the shower to softer, rain like settings, but as soon as he got his feet under him, Steve pressed forward, sucking Tony’s eager cock deep into his throat with a vibrating moan. Tony jerked in surprise, his fingers clenching in Steve’s hair. He thought the water had been hot but, god, this was heat. Steve’s eyes were glassy and unfocused as he gazed up at Tony, blinking in the spray of water that pounded over both of them.

Steve seemed unable to keep up any kind of rhythm, but when Tony’s hand tightened in his hair, his hips shoving forward, chasing the soft silk of Steve’s tongue, Steve moaned again and relaxed into the hold. Tony fucked into his mouth, guiding Steve’s head back and forth and rocking with his hips, gradually increasing his pace as his orgasm built. He was closer than he expected - taking Steve apart with his tongue had brought him right to the edge himself. His body yearned for harder, faster, deeper, and when he responded by thrusting into Steve’s mouth, Steve’s eyes drifted shut and his throat relaxed, swallowing around Tony’s cock every time he pushed deep.

Pleasure crackled through Tony’s body, building to a peak that was almost painful. As it broke and he tumbled over, he pulled back, holding Steve’s chin in one hand and his cock in the other, shooting streaks of come over Steve’s face, cheeks, chin. Steve’s tongue darted out to catch a taste of Tony before the water washed it away, his eyes flicking up, soft, sated, submissive. His eyelashes caught tiny droplets of water as he blinked, long and languid, one hand around each of Tony’s ankles to steady himself.

Tony reached down and eased Steve up to his feet, cleaning him off for a second time, tamping down the disappointment that flared up when he washed his possessive claim off Steve’s skin. They didn’t speak, settling for tiny noises of pleasure as they petted and nuzzled each other, warm and peaceful. Tony shut off the water and wrapped them both in one, giant towel, pre-warmed by JARVIS’ control of a vent in the towel cupboard, and they stumbled off to bed together. 

It wasn’t that late, but Steve had to be up early the next day for his interview at the gallery, so they switched the TV on low and cuddled up together, naked, under the blankets, trusting JARVIS to turn the TV off when they both finally drifted into sleep.

“I was nervous… about the interview…” Steve muttered, his blinks getting longer and slower, his jaw going slack where it rested against Tony’s shoulder. “Now I’m not… I’m just…”

Tony chuckled and pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead, pulling him even closer. Steve’s feet hooked around Tony’s calf. “Glad I could help.”

Steve mumbled something else, too soft and slurred to be understood, and then he was out. Tony followed not long after.

**

Tony woke to the gentle weight of Steve settling over his lower back. He smiled into the pillow then groaned and shifted under Steve, feeling the pleasant roll of his hips as he moved. “You accosting me at some god-awful hour of the morning means your interview either went very well, or very badly.” 

“First of all,” Steve said lightly. “It’s half past noon and I finished my interview hours ago.” Tony felt an odd tickle between his shoulder blades. “And the interview went very well.” The tickle worked its way down his spine. “They said they’d be in touch in a couple days.”

“That’s amazing, Steve. I’m so proud of you.” Tony shifted a little, but Steve’s meagre weight kept him pinned to the bed. He focused on the curve of the tickle. “Are you drawing on my back?” 

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, the fingers from his left hand dancing up Tony’s side while the tickle swooped back up towards his shoulder blades. “You shouldn’t sleep naked. It’s too beautiful a canvas.” 

“You’re insane. Have I told you that recently?”

“Pretty much daily.”

“What are you drawing?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

“...It’s on my back, how am I supposed to see?”

“You’re a genius, you’ll figure something out.”

Tony chuckled and pressed his face into the sheets, enjoying the comforting presence of Steve on his hips, even if he was desperate to scratch the tickle away. He was just calculating the marker-related risk to his bed linens if he flipped Steve over right now and ravished him, when JARVIS cut in.

“Excuse me, Sir, I have Agent Coulson of SHIELD on the line.”

Tony groaned. “I’m not in. I’m actually out.”

Steve chuckled. There were two snaps of the marker lids, then the swooping tickle began again.

“Sir, I’m afraid he’s insisting,” JARVIS informed him.

“Close the line. I’m a little busy.” Tony attempted to get busier by rolling over under Steve, but Steve gripped his hips tightly with his thighs and wouldn’t let him turn.

“You’re going to ruin it.”

“Mm, that sounds like fun. Might ruin you a little while I’m at it.”

“I’m already ruined,” Steve grumbled.

“For other men? Yes, I have that effect on people.”

“No, I just meant in general.”

JARVIS piped up again. “The phone, Sir. My protocols are being overridden.” 

Tony saw his phone flicker to life, and he grabbed it and turned it face down. “That had better not be a video call, Agent, unless you want to see a lot more of me, and Steve, than you were probably bargaining for.”

There was a pause, then a chime as the video part of the call was turned off. “Duly noted,” Coulson said blandly. “But you might want to put on some pants, because I’m in your elevator.”

“Jesus Christ.” Tony buried his face in his pillow and groaned, but Steve chuckled lightly and recapped his markers. A second later his warm weight disappeared from Tony’s back, and Tony whined in disappointment. “Steeeve…”

Steve smacked him lightly on the ass, then Tony’s pants landed on his back. “Come on. Sounds like SHIELD needs you.”

“Send DUM-E, I was busy.”

“Not as busy as you thought you were going to be.” Steve’s footsteps disappeared into the hall, and Tony heard him greeting Coulson. He grumbled to himself as he hauled out of bed and pulled on his clothes. 

“Consulting hours are between eight and five, every other Thursday,” Tony called out as he entered the living room. Steve was showing Coulson something on a tablet and smiling. When had they become so chummy? Tony looked between them with a raised eyebrow.

“This isn’t a consultation,” Coulson said curtly and handed Tony another tablet. Tony eyed him suspiciously but crossed the room to set it up on the desk in the corner. Information scrolled by, JARVIS controlling the speed to perfectly match Tony’s processing. It wasn’t good. It was very not good.

Steve appeared behind him, going up on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Coulson said from the doorway. “We’ll be in touch.”

Steve waved to Coulson as the elevator doors slid closed. “What is all this?”

Tony eyed him suspiciously. “How do you even know Coulson?”

Steve shrugged. “Phil and I met at that benefit SI hosted. The one with the kids and the thing - the singing. Pepper introduced us, and we got to chatting while you were charming little old ladies out of donation money.”

“Okay, first of all, who is Phil? His first name’s Agent. Also, I have no idea which benefit thing you’re talking about, but you make me sound like Max Bialystock scamming chequies out of rich widows and I’m not sure if that’s flattering or not.

“And finally…This is all… this” Tony gestured and JARVIS spread the file out across several screens. A world in chaos and at the centre… the tesseract. Tony grabbed the hologram cube and rolled it around in his hand. He knew about it, his dad had come across it during the war. Steve’s jaw dropped as he scanned the screens, taking it all in.

“Well, for once I’m not the one with all the homework. I should go...”

“What?” Tony spun to face Steve. “Why?”

“You’ve got work to do Tony. You have to figure all of this out. I should go downstairs or spend the day at Peggy’s or something.”

“Don’t you dare. I work better with you here,” Tony said petulantly.

Steve laughed. “You do not.”

Tony grinned. “Well, I certainly work happier.” He took a fistful of Steve’s shirt and tugged him in for a kiss. “I helped you with your homework…” Another kiss. “And if I recall correctly, you got a prize when you were done.”

“Hmm.” Steve flicked his heated gaze up to Tony’s, tucking in his chin in his teasing way, Pavlov’s half-smirk pulling Tony’s body happily into the equation. “Fair enough. What do you want your prize to be?”

Tony released his hold on Steve’s shirt and brought his hand up to cup the side of his jaw instead. He ran his thumb across Steve’s cheek. “You. Always you. You’re my prize.”

Steve’s hands settled on Tony’s hips, his eyes softening. He leaned forward until his chin rested on Tony’s chest. “Okay. I’ll stay. You work. I’ll bring you coffee.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Now that will definitely make me work better.”

After nine hours of reviewing footage, reading reports, and becoming an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics, Tony got a call from Coulson - Loki, the Asgardian, had been located in Stuttgart. Fury was sending in Tony’s old friend Natasha, but he wanted her to have backup with Barton compromised.

Tony suited up while Steve chewed nervously on his knuckle. Tony popped up the faceplate and crossed the landing pad. He scooped Steve up in his metal covered arms, lifting him over a foot off the ground until they were face to face. Steve’s eyes went wide, and Tony saw the glint of arousal there and filed it away for later. He pressed Steve’s back against the wall and kissed him hard. Steve’s hands came up between them and his fingers hooked on the neck panel of the suit, holding on. 

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be here.” 

Tony kissed him once more then snapped the faceplate down, stepped clear, and blasted off. The heat signatures showed him that Steve stood out on the balcony for a long time after Iron Man would have been out of sight.

Tony went full speed to Germany, JARVIS scrolling updates on the side of the HUD. He watched through SHIELD’s own security cameras as Natasha cornered Loki using a quinjet on the steps of the concert hall, a terrified crowd on their knees in front of him. Loki fired a blast at the jet that would have knocked it out of the sky if not for Natasha’s impressive flying skills.

Tony hijacked her PA system as he blasted into range. “Miss me?” he asked.

He plowed into the street in front of Loki and fired both repulsors, full power. It would have shredded a normal human and, honestly, Tony wasn’t sure if Loki could take it, but he figured this was one of those cases where you crank everything to 11 and if he blew up the trickster god before they found the tesseract, well, easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Loki wasn’t obliterated, but he was stunned, crumpling onto the steps, spraying shredding concrete over the gathered crowd. Tony stood over him, arming every weapon in his arsenal, popping open missile hatches and even the underwater lighting system which wasn’t in the least bit effective as a weapon, but was very threatening looking. He heard Natasha swoop in behind him, hovering in the sky, Loki in her sights. “Make your move Reindeer Games.”

Loki glared at him for a moment, then slowly raised his hands, his decorative armour shimmering then disappearing. Huh, magic. This guy was even flashier than Tony was himself. 

“Good move.”

They loaded Loki up on the jet and carted him back to the helicarrier, making a brief stop to pick up Loki’s brother, Thor, or rather for Thor to pick up Loki and force Tony into a raging battle in the middle of the woods. He was bruised and dazed and frustrated by the time he convinced Thor to bring Loki back to SHIELD, that they could work together, and he was eager to get out of the suit. He landed in the cargo bay and dumped the armour in its case, noticing a few dings the thunder god had put into it. He pulled a suit of another kind out of the go back he’d tossed in with the armour’s crate, preferring jeans and a t-shirt but not having time to dig around for something more comfortable.

He bumped into Coulson on the way to the bridge to meet the others. “There are a few things your file didn’t quite cover,” he quipped.

Coulson’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “You do best under pressure, Stark.”

“Right, yes, learning about Thor, the actual god of thunder in great detail, up close and personal is doing wonders for my tennis elbow.” Tony rolled out his aching joints. “So what’s this Nat says about a cellist?”

Coulson actually  _ blushed.  _ “Hmm, she’s in Portland, so we don’t get to see each other very often. It’s nothing serious. Not yet anyway. Not that I wouldn’t mind...” They pushed through the large double doors onto the bridge.

“Visit more. Borrow my jet. Look, I’ll fly you out there, okay? Keep the love alive.” Coulson smiled gratefully, but they were interrupted by the conversation surrounding a large conference table on the bridge.

Tony plowed in with his usual bluster and over-confidence, taking a moment of distraction to slip a bug onto the computer bank that surrounded command. It would spend the next few hours worming its way into SHIELD’s secure system and sending everything it found to Tony. He’d work with Fury, but he trusted him about as far as Steve could throw him.

Once Bruce was set up in the lab, Tony excused himself to freshen up. He made his way down the tight halls on the helicarrier to the dinky room they’d assigned to him. He stepped into the shower, to wash off the sweat and grime of battle, and when he looked down he saw a curl of multi-coloured water swirl down the drain. Steve’s drawing from the morning, he’d completely forgotten. He’d had it on his back the whole time. He’d never even seen what it was of. A lump crawled into his throat and lodged there. He finished his shower abruptly and stepped out, not bothering to dress before he pulled out his tablet to call Steve. 

“Tony!” he answered with a huge smile, after only one ring. “How’s it going?”

Tony felt warmth rush through him at the sight of Steve, curled up on their bed with a magazine and a mug of tea on the bedside table. He was only wearing boxers, and Tony’s eyes raked over the bare skin he could see on the screen. “Steve.” The feel of his name on Tony’s lips was better than a hot bath, a shot of bourbon, and three extra-strength Advil. “It’s alright. We’re - there’s a lot going on, it’s not great, but we’re managing.”

“I miss you.” Steve rolled on his side, propping the tablet up against a pillow so he could curl around it without it falling over.

“Me too.” Tony stared at the screen, feeling his mood plummeting even further at how far away the curve of Steve’s jaw was, then sat back and snapped his fingers. “Bright side - I got to meet Bruce Banner. His work is incredible. He wrote this thesis on anti-electron collisions and it’s - like - mind-blowing.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Mind-blowing, huh? Should I be jealous?” His eyes twinkled.

Tony smiled. “Heh. Nah.” He thought about it for a moment. “I mean, you could be if you wanted to. My ego certainly wouldn’t mind. If you wanted to be - just a little jealous?”

Steve laughed. “Okay, I’m sufficiently a little jealous. Mostly I just want you home.” Steve peered into the screen as if he could see around the edges of it. “Are you naked?”

“I just took a shower.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t really answer my question.”

Tony turned the screen of the tablet, sweeping it along his naked body, and he watched Steve’s eyes follow its progress hungrily. An alert popped up in the corner of Tony’s screen that his bug on the bridge had finished downloading another portion of files and he sighed. “I have to go, babe. I’ll try to be home as soon as possible, okay?”

“Alright.”

“I’ll call you again, if I get the chance. This feels like - I hope it’ll be over soon.” He frowned, oddly uncomfortable with that thought. This felt too complicated, like there were too many layers for it to be over that easily…

“Okay. Go save the world.”

“Go put some clothes on before someone other than me sees that. Mine.” Tony gestured, and Steve chuckled.

“Right back at ya.”

Tony shut off the video call with a sigh and pulled on fresh clothes. He padded back down to the lab. 

The uncomfortable feeling only built as Tony flipped through the data his bug had provided him. Fury hadn’t told them the whole truth…

The man in question barged into the lab, Natasha on his heels and Tony spun the screen to confront him. “What is Phase 2?”

Fury’s jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but the screen threw up more documents.

“Ah, I see. Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the Tesseract to make HYDRA weapons.” 

Fury tried desperately to defend himself, Natasha getting into it with Bruce. Bruce had a worrying tension in his shoulders, but Tony didn’t care. He was  _ pissed.  _ Yanked around as a fucking  _ contractor,  _ told he wasn’t enough of a team player to play with the team, only to be brought in for the hard stuff and  _ lied to. _

Thor pushed through the door, and Fury dragged him into the fight, blaming his people for the arms race SHIELD was leaping into, full-force. The fight grew, rose, sharpened until all five voices filled the room and all Tony could see was red and all he could hear was angry buzzing his ears, betrayal and rage filling his chest until -

Bruce was holding the sceptre.

The four of them stepped away from him in unison. “Dr. Banner…” Natasha said carefully. “Put the sceptre down.”

Bruce looked down at his hand, stunned, like he couldn't believe he was holding it, then a bright chime from the computer across the room broke them all out of the tense holding pattern.

“Got it..” Tony muttered.

Bruce set the sceptre down and they both crossed the room to stare at the screen. The tesseract had been found, and it was...  _ shit.  _ The entire helicarrier rocked with the impact of an explosion, knocking them all down like bowling pins. They were here. Tony staggered to his feet, coughing in the smoke and blinking through the flashing, red, emergency lights. The others were nowhere to be seen so Tony made a blind dash for the cargo bay where the suit was stored. He typed a few codes into his phone and it was ready at attention when he arrived.

The suit closed around him and he immediately felt more in control. The SHIELD comm he had in his ear was still crackling with yelling and confusion, but he drowned it all out except that which was relevant - one of the turbines was down and if it couldn’t spin, they were going down.

Tony blasted out of the helicarrier and circled around to turbine 3. Clearing the debris wasn’t so bad, but the only way to get it starting again was to give it a boost - meaning he had to be in it. He braced himself against one of the rotors and cranked the repulsors up to full. The suit creaked and complained, but with an almighty screech, the rotor began to move. The faster it went, the easier it was to spin until Tony was careening around in circles at top speed, arms braced against the rotor, urging it into action.

Finally, he felt the engine engage, groaning to life and taking over. The rotor pulled away from his hands, moving on its own power, and Tony had a tiny window to get out before -  _ fuck. _

The rotor kicked into top speed and slammed into his back, carrying him along for a few wild rotations until he slipped down, caught in the undercarriage of the spinning rotor like a hamster shoved in a ball and kicked down the stairs. 

The metal blades tore at the suit, bending pieces painfully into Tony’s sides and legs, clawing and tearing and crushing. He couldn’t breathe or think, but he waited until he’d been bashed into what felt like the right direction and fired the repulsors at maximum power. He shot out of the bottom of the rotor, flipping wildly through the air for several hundred feet until he was able to right himself. 

The repulsors spluttered and choked, damaged likely beyond repair, but he made it back to the helicarrier, crawling up onto the deck and falling to his hands and knees, panting.

And then he clicked into what he was hearing over the comm. Coulson… medical… down…

They called it.

Phil was gone.

Tony took a shaky breath and pushed himself to his feet. He felt numb, blank. It wasn’t right. Loki didn’t get to take someone like Coulson out of the world. The suit fell to pieces as he engaged the release, leaving it in a pile on the floor. It was broken anyway, it didn’t matter. He walked down the hall to the bridge, his footsteps echoing on the floor.

Fury was standing with his back to Tony, looking out the vast wall of glass. The bridge was quiet, empty, everyone dealing with either injuries or damage control. Sitting on the table was one of the HYDRA weapons Fury had so vehemently denied making.

“Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract.” Fury’s voice filled the room, and crackled across the comms to the rest of the Avengers team. “I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea called The Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could.” Fury took a breath, his shoulders squaring up. Tony stared at the back of his head. “Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in  _ heroes.” _

Tony pushed away from the table, Fury’s words ringing in his ears. He marched right to his room and slid down the wall until he sat on the floor, tablet in his hands. He was on the third ring before he even realized he’d called Steve.

It took a few rings for him to answer, and when he did he had a streak of colour on his cheek and he was wearing one of his painting shirts.

“What are you doing up?” Tony asked.

“Inspiration struck - couldn’t sleep. Why are you calling me if you didn’t think I was up?” Steve asked cheekily. Tony’s expression must have shifted, because Steve’s fell. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s -” Tony rubbed his face with his hands, as if he could erase the last few hours as easily as Steve rubbed away pencil lines. “It’s Phil, Steve, he’s -”

Steve stilled, his jaw going tense. “Tony… is he.. Is he going to be okay?” His voice broke on the last word.

“No..” Tony let out a tense breath. “No. He’s not.”

“Oh fuck.” Steve clapped a hand to his mouth. “Oh god, Tony - what -?”

“I - I can’t get into it all right now. But he - we were attacked, and he tried to be stupid heroic and…” The lump in Tony’s throat became impossible to talk around for a moment. “He was stupid,” he choked out finally.

“I’m so sorry, Tony.”

They were quiet for a long moment, Tony’s eyes in his lap, feeling Steve’s eyes on him. Finally, he couldn’t take the sitting there any longer. “I have to - I have to go - I can... I have to do something. Steve - I’ll - I have to…”

“Go, Tony. It’s okay. Call me when you can.”

“Okay. I - sorry.” Tony met Steve’s eyes finally and the depth of fear and pain there was staggering.

“Tony?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t…” Steve voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Tony’s fingers twitched towards the screen as if he’d get Steve’s smooth skin under them instead of hard glass. “Yeah.. I’ll try.” He chuckled humourlessly. “But you know me.”

Steve smiled, “Yeah, that’s why I said it... Tony -”

“I’m going to -” Tony had the urge to say  _ fix this,  _ but he couldn’t - this couldn’t be fixed. 

It could be avenged though. 

“Go,” Steve said again, and Tony blew a kiss to the screen and switched off the tablet, hauling himself to his feet and leaving his room. His feet took him to the place where Loki’s cage had stood. There was a stomach-churning, dark streak on the far wall. He stood there for a long time, his mind nothing but blank static. He could see out of the side window that the sun was coming up. Where would Loki go…? A sound behind him made him turn. Natasha.

“How’s Barton?” Tony asked.

“He’s fine. He’ll recover.” Natasha’s voice was tense in a way that told Tony that while Clint might be in control of himself again, it would be a long time before he actually recovered.

They both stared at the blood stain in silence. 

“Where is he going?” Natasha asked, jaw tight.

“That’s what I was just trying to figure out.”

“He needs a power source. If we can put together a list of all the options, maybe…”

“He made it personal,” Tony ground out.

“That's not the point.”   


But that was why… Loki meant something by it… “That _ is  _ the point. That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?”

Natasha leaned against the railing and looked at Tony. “To tear us apart.”   
  
“He knows he has to take us out to win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.”   
  
“Like in Stuttgart…” Natasha’s brow creased.   
  
“Yeah. That was just a preview, this is opening night. Loki's a full-tilt diva.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess,” Natasha quipped, and Tony shot her a withering look.

“He wants the show. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a - a monument built in the skies with his name plastered…”  _ Fuck. _ “Sonofabitch!” Tony was offended for all of five seconds and then he was hit with all-consuming terror -  _ Steve. _


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Art is never finished, only abandoned.” - Leonardo da Vinci_

“Natasha, Steve’s at the tower.” Tony’s heart had screeched to a halt and all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room.

“Steve? Your boyfriend?”

“I -” Tony paced half across the room, then turned abruptly back towards her. “Yes - I have to - what…”

“Tony.” Natasha grabbed both his arms and gave him a little shake. She was unbelievably strong. “We have to go. Get the suit. Call on the way. We’ll get him out.”

“Yes. Right. Okay.” Tony dashed off down the hall, already commanding JARVIS to run full diagnostics on the damaged armour. He shot out of the hangar mere seconds before the quinjet with Natasha and Clint in it, and tore across the ever-brightening sky towards Manhattan. The repulsors hissed and popped, but they held - for now anyway. JARVIS tried Steve five times, but there was no answer; he must have fallen asleep after all and wouldn’t wake for hours. He tried Happy next.

“Hey, boss, what’s up?”

“Oh, thank god. Happy where are you? I need you to do something for me.”

“I’m at the office.”

“Perfect, amazing. Not good though. There’s a crazy demi-god on the loose and he’s headed right for you. Where’s Pepper?”

“She’s on a plane, coming back from France.”

“Okay, perfect. Happy - Happy - Steve is upstairs, in the penthouse. He’s asleep. Use the override codes. I need you to get him out - out of New York. Both of you. Please, do that for me.”

He could hear the screech of a chair as Happy leapt to his feet. “Of course.”

“Just - just get in the car and drive. Away. Out of Manhattan - don’t stop until I tell you to, okay?”

“Yeah, I got it. I got it. Tony, you alright?”

“I will be. I’ve got this. If you’ve got Steve, I’ve got this.”

He disconnected after one last promise from Happy that he would get Steve out, just in time to swoop around and reach the roof of Stark Tower. He wanted nothing more than to blast into their bedroom and carry Steve to safety himself, but he had a giant red and gold target on his back and he couldn’t risk Steve like that. He was safest with Happy.

Selvig’s device squatted on top of Tony’s roof - looming above his and Steve’s home. Tony’s gut twisted. It felt weighty, threatening, like any second it could smash down, powering through 98 stories of glass and concrete, obliterating everything in its path - including Steve. The mad scientist himself stood next to it.

“Shut it down Dr. Selvig.”

“It's too late! It can't stop now. He wants to show us something! A new universe.” His eyes were wild, filled with manic energy and a pale blue glow that reminded Tony of the Tesseract itself.

Yeah, okay, this guy wasn’t about to be reasoned with. Tony raised his hands and fired at the device, but the blast ricocheted back, hitting him hard. Ten more alerts popped up for the already severely damaged suit. Fuck.

“The barrier is pure energy,” Jarvis told him. “It is unbreachable.”

Tony looked around. He needed another approach. His eyes fell to the balcony where his landing pad was. A green-clad form stood, gazing up at him in triumph. “Okay. Plan B.”

Tony hit the landing pad, keeping his eyes glued to Loki, and made his way around towards the doors inside, the bots peeling the damaged suit off him. It was terrifying, being out of it, but If he couldn’t somehow magically talk Loki into surrendering, his only option was the Mark VIII, and for that, he needed the homing bracelets that were sitting behind his bar. Though, there was a good chance it wasn’t going to work; it wasn’t ready. Tony rambled on, anything to keep Loki occupied, while he made his way to the bar. While Loki turned to the windows to gaze out on his soon-to-be conquest, Tony slid the homing bracelets for the Mark VII onto his wrists.  _ Come on Happy, get him out, get him out. _

Tony continued his stalling, desperately hoping that Loki wouldn’t realize why he was doing it, that it wasn’t to give the team time to arrive, even though it should have been - he just needed to know Steve was okay.

“Let's do a headcount here.” He waved his drink in Loki’s direction. “A dangerous shadowy government branch; Your brother, the demi-God; a man with breath-taking anger management issues; a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them.”  _ And me,  _ he added.  _ You put Steve in danger, you piss me off too.  _ He advanced, drink in hand, anger bubbling up within him and pushing him too close. 

When he reached Loki, the trickster god smiled, and Tony clenched his jaw. He should have stayed behind the bar. He should have poked Loki’s ego more, and from a distance. “How will your friends have time for me -” Loki leaned towards him, and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “- when they're so busy fighting you?”

The point of the sceptre moved towards Tony, and he resisted the urge to flinch back; there wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway, Loki could easily overpower him.  _ Steve Steve Steve  _ was all he could think about, but he tried to push it away in case Loki could see it in his mind, know that Tony’s heart wasn’t here in his chest, but one floor down, curled up in the bed they shared.

_ Tink.  _ The point of the spear tapped against the arc reactor. Nothing happened.  _ Tink.  _ Loki tried again.  _ Oh thank fuck,  _ the arc reactor prevented Loki’s magic - maybe not forever, probably not even for long, but it was enough to throw him off, to give him pause. 

“It should work,” Loki growled out in confusion. 

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but JARVIS spoke in his ear. “Mr. Rogers is out of the building and on his way east with Mr. Hogan.”

Crushing, smothering relief rushed through Tony, temporarily stealing his breath. Steve was gone, Steve was safe. He glanced down at the floor then rolled his eyes back up to Loki, with a smirk this time. “Well, performance issues. You know?”

Loki’s hand snapped around Tony’s throat, and he was reminded that the sceptre, and magic, wasn’t all the god had going for him. _Might have been a bad move, Stark._ Loki twisted his wrist, and Tony flew across the room, slamming into the floor hard enough to send pain radiating up into his shoulders. “JARVIS, anytime now…” Tony ground out under his breath. Steve getting to safety had temporarily replaced his tension about the Mark VII but now it came rushing back. He glanced at the bracelets as he pushed himself to his feet, Loki catching him around the throat again before he could stand.

“You will all fall before me,” Loki growled into his ear.

“Deploy!” Tony’s eyes fixed on the case where the Mark VII was stored. It was all on JARVIS now. “DEPLOY!” Loki hauled back and shoved, and the window exploded behind Tony, sending him flying out of the tower in a shower of broken glass.

Tony was used to flying, he was used to falling, but this was entirely different. He was bare and exposed, the wind whipping his clothes wild and ripping the air out of his throat before he could draw it into his lungs. His heart was pounding so fast he could feel it bruise against the arc reactor and he was reminded that he’d read somewhere that it wasn’t the fall that killed people, it was the heart attack on the way down.

There was a beep and a crash and an aborted breath later the suit landed on his back. Tony held his arms out wide, as the suit assembled around him, praying it would be in time. The ground rushed up towards him and the helmet closed over his face, the HUD snapping to life just in time to fire the repulsors and soar back up into the sky to face Loki again, where he stood at the edge of the broken window.

“And there’s one other person you pissed off,” Tony ground out. Loki raised his sceptre. “His name was Phil.” Tony fired.

Loki shot across the room, crashing into the wall on the opposite side. Tony fired up the repulsors again to go after him when the sky above was split by a beam of blue light - Selvig’s device. A vast, gaping, black wound cut across the sky, and from it poured an endless stream of armoured creatures, alien and insect-like. An army.

Tony charged into attack mode, spraying missiles and repulsor beams, but it was no good, there were simply too many of them. They swarmed into the city, flooding the streets. New York exploded with sirens.

Nat’s voice cut through the comm, and Tony sagged with relief, banking sharply to bring the fight to her and Clint. Clint executed a less than ideal landing in a plaza and Tony turned back to meet the two assassins, make a plan of attack, when a horrible roar broke through the sky. He looked back to the portal to see a massive space worm crawl its way out of the portal and rip through an entire block in moments.

Tony circled the leviathan for a while, searching for an in, then cut across to face it, firing several missiles at its weakest points. The thing roared, banked and set off after Tony. “We got his attention. What the hell is step two?!”

Step Two, apparently, was fly just out of the thing’s reach, narrowly avoiding buildings and construction equipment, while hoping desperately for a miracle. Tony looked down at the destruction below and had to keep reminding himself that Happy’d had time to get out. Pepper was safe, Rhodey wasn’t even in the country.  _ Steve wasn’t here.  _

“Stark? We got him,” Nat’s voice crackled over the comm.

Tony heaved a sigh of relief - Banner. 

The Hulk easily took out the leviathan and, as a team, they charged back into battle, ripping through the seemingly endless ranks of Chitauri. The Avengers were ruthless and efficient, wiping out wave after wave of the army, but it never seemed to lessen, the portal spewed four new Chitauri for every one they destroyed. Tony charged into the mouth of another leviathan, exploding it from the inside out. He could hear Natasha, up on the roof of the tower, talking to Selvig.  _ Please please find a way to close it,  _ he begged silently, turning to tear down another flying chariot.

Then Fury’s voice cut into the comm channel, angry and desperate. “Stark, you hearing me? We have a missile headed straight for the city!”

That was… he meant a nuke. A nuke headed to Manhattan to try and shut this all down before it spread. They - the WSC was going to blow up the whole island in a knee-jerk fear reaction without giving them a chance to stop it. None of the Avengers could survive that - probably not even the Hulk. All these people.

...Steve.

Tony banked hard and rocketed across the city, back towards the helicarrier to intercept the missile. JARVIS caught sight of it, throwing up information on the screen. What the fuck was he going to do with it?

“I can close it!” Nat called. “Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down.”

“Do it!” Clint called, but Tony suddenly knew exactly what he needed to do.

“No, wait!”

“Stark, these things are still coming.”

“I got a nuke coming in, it's gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.” Tony latched onto the bottom of the missile, letting it’s thrust carry them back towards the city, adjusting its course towards the area beneath the portal. 

“Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip,” Clint called, but Tony didn’t respond. He could feel the weighty silence fall over the comms, the tense, gripping wait. He swallowed hard. There were worse ways to go, he supposed, than saving the world. But fuck, what he wouldn’t give to hold Steve in his arms one more time. As if he’d read his mind, JARVIS spoke. “Sir, should I try Mr. Rogers?”

Tony’s heart clenched in his chest. “Might as well.”

It was only half a ring before Steve picked up. “Tony?”

“Hey, babe.” Tony aimed for light, but knew Steve would see right through it. 

“Tony, what’s happening? I was asleep but Happy  _ manhandled me  _ out - yes it was manhandling!” Tony could hear Happy’s muffled voice in the background. He clung to the probably vain hope that if he didn’t make it to the portal in time, they might still get out. “And the news says - Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Steve - I - I’ve got to do something stupid. There’s no...” He cut himself off.

There was a tense moment of silence. “Tony, what - ?”

“Sorry, I just needed to hear your voice. Listen to Happy, okay? He’s going to get you to safety.” Tony powered the repulsors up and turned up into the sky, grunting as the thrust from the missile fought the direction change. The portal loomed above him, a black pit dug into the fabric of reality. “I’m sorry…”

“Tony please tell me what’s happening. Are you okay? What are you doing? The news showed all this footage of aliens. What the fuck? Tony _ please.” _

“Steve, I -” The call disconnected as Tony blasted through the edge of the portal, faster than he expected, the redirection of the missile adding extra thrust as he rose. He swallowed back the words he had been trying to say. It would probably have been a dick move anyway, admitting that right before he died. Vast, black space swallowed him, and he stared, wide-eyed, at the gathering army of Chitauri forming ranks, ready to attack. 

The suit’s power stuttered, then cut out, and the missile shot out of his hands, blasting its way towards the looming mothership. The repulsors wouldn’t fire, and the life support systems were failing. Tony’s HUD flickered and died, Steve’s caller ID image disappearing. Tony’s vision went fuzzy at the edges, his head swimming, though his lungs assured him he was getting enough oxygen. He knew he wasn’t. 

It might have been a dick move, but he really, really wished he could have let Steve know how he felt.

**

Tony shocked awake to the massive green face of the Hulk staring down at him. He roared and Tony felt his heart kick into overdrive. His chest felt like the Hulk had stomped on it six or seven times. “What the hell? What just happened?” Tony looked around and caught sight of Thor grinning at him. His eyes snapped up to the sky, the portal was closed. Steve - Steve was safe. He let out a harsh breath. “Please tell me nobody kissed me, or I’m in big trouble.”

“We won!” Thor said, offering him a hand. Tony hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the creak and whine of the damaged armour. The faceplate was lying several feet away, but Tony suspected that if it were on, JARVIS would be spewing up endless streams of damage-report data.

“Alright. Good job guys.” Tony stumbled the few steps to his faceplate and examined the connection. “Have you ever tried shawarma?” He asked the team. “There’s a shawarma place a few blocks from here. I don’t know what it is, but I want to try it.” Luckily the faceplate wasn’t broken, just pulled loose. He snapped it back onto the helmet and sure enough JARVIS was having an absolute fit. “Okay, whoa, buddy,” he said, just loud enough for his AI to hear. The others were discussing what to do with Loki. “Save all that for later. The suit’s toast, I know it. Get Steve on the line for me.”

JARVIS tried. “I’m sorry, Sir. His phone is off or not responding.”

Tony grumbled. Little nerd had probably forgotten to charge it again. “Alright send him a text with the name of the shawarma place and send it to Happy too. Say I’ll meet Steve there, or back at the tower depending on how far Happy got and how long it takes him to realize his phone is dead.”

“Very good, Sir.”

“Thanks, J.”

The suit couldn’t fly, but it was still menacing looking, and the whole team descended on Loki. Thor had a complicated-looking gag that Tony suspected he carried around for very kinky reasons, but the cultural divide seemed to prevent Thor from understanding what he was asking. They trussed Loki up in some electromagnetic cuffs that Tony and Bruce had developed as a prototype for possible Hulk control, and left him to Thor to manage. The big guy seemed to have knocked all the fight out of the trickster god and he was silent and compliant the whole time.

Shawarma, it turned out, was amazing, and Tony, it turned out, was famished. He was halfway through his second wrap when the door banged open behind him. The others startled up, ready to face a threat, but Tony recognized the waves of fury that were slamming into the back of his neck. “Oh, shit,” he whispered to his shawarma.

_ “Tony!”  _ Steve ground out, and Tony was beginning to suspect that Pepper had been giving him lessons on that particular tone of voice. Tony spun in his chair, holding his hands up placatingly.

“Steve -” he started, but Steve cut him off, stomping over until he was close enough that Tony could catch the little wobble in his bright, blue eyes.

“How could you - the phone cut out! Tony! What the fuck? How could you do that to me?” Steve stabbed a surprisingly painful finger into Tony’s chest. “I thought you were dead. You - you  _ asshole.”  _

“Steve, it’s okay.” Tony tried to cup Steve’s cheek, but his eyes flashed dangerously, and Tony pulled back. “We won and I only nearly died a little bit and nobody kissed me.”

Steve spluttered wordlessly at him. The stabbing finger turned into a whole hand, fisted in the front of Tony’s shirt. The anger in Steve’s expression was twisted with fear. “I thought you were dead.” 

Instead of trying to talk again, Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and pulled him close until he tumbled into Tony’s lap. Something acidic and terrifying and heart-stopping wormed its way through Tony’s gut, as soon as he had Steve in his arms again. He’d almost lost him. He could maybe - just a little bit - understand where Steve’s rage was coming from. Tony buried his face in Steve’s shoulder as delicate fingers wound through his hair, petting gently in contrast to the anger Tony could still feel radiating off his lover. “I tried to call you, your phone was dead.”

“It was probably out of service in  _ Alaska  _ where Happy tried to take me  _ by force  _ at approximately three million miles an hour,” Steve grumbled.

_ “Ahem.” _

Tony looked over Steve’s shoulder and saw the rest of the team staring at the two of them, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “Right.” Tony sat up a little, settling Steve more squarely on his lap. “So this is - uh - Steve.” 

“So it is.” Nat said, with a frightening twinkle in her eye.

The tension drained out of Steve’s shoulders as Tony rubbed slow circles into his lower back with one hand. He gave the gang a little wave. “Hi, I’m Steve.” Steve reached out and grabbed a handful of Tony’s fries and shoved them in his mouth. Tony’s lips threatened to twitch into a grin, but he held back, dropping his eyes to the thighs hooked over his. “Good job, by the way. I saw you guys on the news -” his voice dropped low “- until my phone cut out because a certain someone had me  _ kidnapped out of my own home  _ -”

“Hey!” Tony spoke up.  _ “Evacuated,  _ I think is the word you were looking for.”

“ - but you guys were great,” Steve continued, ignoring Tony completely. He pointed a fry at Thor. “That lightning thing is pretty cool.”

Thor nodded approvingly. “Thank you.”

Steve waved his fry at Tony. “He can control the weather,” he told him pointedly, gesturing towards Thor.

Tony spluttered. “Well,  _ yeah,  _ but let’s be fair, it wasn’t a matter of money. He’s a literal god.”

“I’m just saying.” Steve turned back to the food, but his left hand dropped to rest on Tony’s thigh, holding him tightly. Tony flattened his hand over Steve’s, then wound their fingers together, letting Steve squeeze his hand too hard. The rush of the fight faded, and Tony was suddenly deeply exhausted, wanting nothing more than to get this over with, get home, wrap himself around Steve like a giant, arc reactor-powered, heated blanket and never leave the penthouse again.

“Who’s that?”

Tony followed Steve’s gaze into the corner of the restaurant where they’d stuck the restrained Loki on a chair while they ate. No one was quite sure what to do with him, but Selvig and Jane Foster had been talking about it on the phone for over an hour now. Last Tony had checked, Selvig was pacing back and forth outside, scratching notes on the corner of a billboard that had fallen to the street during the battle and arguing with someone called Darcy. 

“My brother,” Thor replied, his voice filled with pain and anger.

Steve was still for a moment. “That’s Loki?”

Tony’s hand tightened over his, a warning. He could feel the ice cold aggression rolling off of Steve in waves. 

When they’d finished their meal, Thor agreed to deal with Loki until Selvig and Jane sorted out how to use the tesseract to send them home to Asgard. Tony wanted to offer his help - he really did - but more than anything in the world, he wanted to be home with Steve. One night, that’s all he asked, and then he’d be back at SHIELD, diving into the science. He just needed one night.

They rose to leave the restaurant, and Thor hauled Loki to his feet. The god’s piercing eyes flitted across the crowd and came to settle on Steve, bright and curious. Tony felt the surge of hot possessiveness that burned him alive every time he had Steve spread out naked beneath him well up, hot and acidic, and he tugged Steve sharply against his side. Loki’s eyes shifted from Steve to Tony, knowing,  _ smirking.  _ Tony swallowed down the growl that starting crawling up his throat, and he felt a tug on his arm. He looked over and Steve was giving him a very pointed look. A look that said, “I’m okay. Please don’t crawl across the shawarma-covered table and rip Loki into tiny, leather-covered, Asgardian pieces.” Tony held Steve’s gaze for a moment then let out a breath, turning away from Loki, but keeping a tight hold on Steve’s waist.

Tony went to the counter and tossed down the entire wad of bills from his wallet, hoping it would help cover some of the Chitauri damage as well. The owners of the restaurant smiled and waved them out, apparently eager to have the newly-minted Avengers in their little shop.

Steve pulled to a halt just outside the door, but then Thor pushed out behind them, with Loki’s bicep clutched in his hands. Tony saw it a bare second before it happened - not the foot, but the glint in Steve’s eye, the furious scowl that flickered across his face and made Tony’s heart skip a beat. Loki tripped hard, his toe caught hard on the edge of Steve’s, and he tumbled into Thor, who, likely fearing a trick, spun and shoved Loki hard against the brick wall of the shop, hand at his throat. 

A smirk of triumph flickered across Steve’s face, and Loki shot him an icy glare. Tony’s heart skipped back to life in double time. “Steve. I’m a fan of your very well-placed anger - at Loki, instead of, say, me - but let’s not get the magic-wielding, demi-god the most pissed off at you directly, okay?” Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders and tugged him closer, shifting him to his other side, putting himself between Steve and Loki.

Steve grumbled, but let himself be moved. Happy was parked down the street, chatting with some people who had gathered on the sidewalk to gape at the damage. Tony patted Happy on the back, and he spun and pulled Tony into a close hug. “I’m fine, Hap,” he muttered in Happy’s ear. Happy released him and took two steps back. He looked like he was going to say something distressingly sentimental, so Tony spoke first. “Hey? Would you mind taking us back to the tower?”

Happy looked pleased to have something he could do. “Sure thing, boss. Hop in.”

Tony wrenched the door open and pushed Steve in before he could trip any more deities. Steve ignored his seatbelt, climbing into Tony’s lap as soon as the door was closed and pressing his face to Tony’s chest. They didn’t speak, just held each other all the way back to the tower.

Happy went up to the SI floors to check on everyone there while Tony and Steve went up to the penthouse. Tony stepped out of the elevator and sighed. One whole wall of the penthouse was destroyed, glass and plaster everywhere, the floor chewed up where the Hulk had enjoyed a little cathartic Loki-tossing. Tony’s shoulders slumped as he looked at the damage. A delicate hand slipped into his.

“We can fix it.”

“I know - I -” Tony dropped Steve’s hand to wrap his arm around his neck and pull him close. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and breathed in the smell of his shampoo. “You were here…”

“Not when this happened. You got me out. You - you were incredible.” Steve melted into his hold. 

Tony skated his eyes over the room again. The flooring alone would mean - “Fuck!”

Steve startled in his arms. “What?!”

“My painting...” Tony crossed the room to frown at the ruined canvas on the floor. It was one of Steve’s practice paintings for his final Brooklyn series - a streetscape from a perspective he ended up changing. It was one of the first complete things Steve had painted at the tower. He hadn’t liked the way it came out and he was going to throw it out or paint over it, until Tony claimed it. He’d hung it here, much to Steve’s chagrin, and he loved it. It felt like the start of something. And now it had a hulk-sized footprint in it.

He picked up the destroyed painting and sighed again.

“Come on, Tony. Let’s go sit down.” Steve tugged at his arm. “Hey, I’ll paint you something new for that wall when it’s fixed. I’ll paint you again, how’s that?” Steve’s voice had dropped very distinctly into Kindergarten Teacher, and Tony stood, rounding on him with a smirk.

“Oh you will, will you? And what will I be wearing in this masterpiece?”

Steve grinned back. “Whatever you like.” He winked.

Tony laughed, finally, for the first time in what felt like forever, and let Steve drag him down the hall to another sitting room on the undamaged side of the tower. Steve kicked his shoes off then directed Tony onto the couch. He curled up at Tony’s side, head resting on his shoulder. The couch was soft, and Steve was warm, and - god - Tony was tired. He drifted into a half-awake, half-asleep doze and it took him a moment to register that Steve was saying something.

“Oh my god…”

Tony opened his eyes and saw that Steve had one of his StarkPads in his hand and was watching news footage of the rest of the battle with one hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide. 

“Don’t watch that.” Tony made to take the tablet, but Steve tugged it out of reach.

“Tony.. holy shit… you went right into that thing’s mouth. You - you - the portal. Tony…”

Tony pressed his face into Steve’s neck. “I’m fine, sweetheart. I’m here. It’s over.”

“I know… I just -” Steve shut off the tablet and set it aside. “It doesn’t seem real, you know, when I’m here with you. You’re just Tony, my Tony. And then… then I see you suit up and - wow.”

Tony’s heart clenched painfully.  _ Please please please don’t leave me,  _ he whimpered in his head. If this was too much for Steve to handle, if Steve was too scared, or too overwhelmed, or… or… 

“I - I just don’t get it,” Steve said.

“Don't get what?” Tony’s hands found patches of bare skin where Steve’s shirt rucked up and danced across them, memorizing Steve’s body, humming with need to grab him and cage him and never - ever - let him go.

Steve covered Tony’s hands with his own. “Why you’d want to be with me.”

“I - what?” Tony stilled, head tilted in confusion. That was not where he was expecting this to go.

“You’re a hero - you’re - you’re a  _ superhero.  _ I don’t see how I can possibly measure up. How I can - in any way - be worthy of you. I see you do this… go out there.. I - I can’t believe you’d want to be with me.”

“Holy shit, Steve, are you serious right now?” Tony hooked both hands around Steve’s jaw drew his face up towards his own. He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I want you so badly that sometimes I legitimately think I’m losing my mind. That -” Tony gestured towards the tablet “- all I could think about was you. I did that for you, because I couldn’t imagine you being in danger and me not doing everything in my power to protect you. It was so fucking selfish but every time I was tired or scared or - or - I thought of you. If I’m a hero -” Tony thought back to the painting that had started it all, the red and gold canvas that hung crookedly in the workshop that they now shared. “If I’m a hero, it’s only because you see me that way.”

Steve’s eyes went wide with wonder. He stared for a long time then his finger raised and he traced it over Tony’s nose, his cheeks, across his lips, as if he were sketching Tony into that moment, locking him there forever. “I - okay. I never want to be anywhere but with you.”

Tony huffed out a tense breath and slumped back against the arm of the couch. “Christ, give me a heart attack. It blows my mind that you could think there was any reason why I wouldn’t want you.”

“Well, beyond the obvious.” Steve made a vague gesture, as if they both knew what he was talking about.

“What do you mean?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at him. “You were People’s Sexiest Man Alive four times and I’d be lucky to make Spaghetti Quarterly.” Steve’s eyes suddenly dropped to his hands wound together in his lap, self-consciousness blooming pink on his cheeks. 

Tony rolled his eyes and cupped Steve’s cheek with his palm until he brought his gaze back up to meet Tony’s. “I don’t know how many different ways I can say this. I promise you, Steve, I love you the way you are. You’re gorgeous, deal with it.” Tony rubbed his thumb across Steve’s cheek then stilled when Steve’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. Tony rewound what he’d said in his head, trying to figure out where he went wrong, but he’d only made it back to “deal” when Steve spoke.

“You - you love me?”

Tony stomach flip-flopped. “Fuck.” Steve startled backwards at Tony's harsh voice, and Tony grabbed for him and scrambled to explain. “No, no. I mean yes. I do. But I was going to be all romantic about it. Hold a boombox outside your window or something.” Tony pulled Steve in close and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his lips. “I do love you.”

Steve smiled into the kiss, the smile growing into a grin and then breaking into laughter. “My window is your window and also 94 stories in the air.”

“I’ll use the suit.” Steve giggled and kissed Tony again, winding his fingers into his shirt. Tony swallowed around the lump that had found its way into his throat. “The idea of losing you… of something happening to you, or if something happened to me and I never got a chance to tell you... It terrified me. So… I love you.“

Steve crawled up into Tony’s lap. “Do you want to know when I realized I was in love with you?”

“I - what?”

“Tony, I’ve loved you for a while now.”

“You didn’t - say…”

“I know.” Steve laced his hands together behind Tony’s neck. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t always react to the emotional stuff all that well.”

“Hey.” Tony pouted in mock-offense.

“I just mean, I feel like it would have freaked you out a little. If I’d told you back then. I wanted to give you a chance to get there, if you were going to. Without, you know, pressure.”

Tony took Steve’s face between his hands and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. “So instead I get the pressure of having to say it first? Gee, thanks.”

Steve pressed a kiss to the end of Tony’s nose. “You love going first.”

Tony smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “I prefer seeing you go first.” Steve rolled his eyes and Tony tugged him close to he could mouth at the side of his neck. Steve tipped his chin to the side, baring more skin for Tony to explore. “So when was it?”

“Hmm?”

“When you realized?”

“Oh yeah. Hold on.” Steve made to push out of Tony’s lap, but Tony held him close, attacking his neck with vigour now. “Tony, come on, I have to - stop - I have to show you.” Steve betrayed the hand shoving at Tony’s chest by laughing and turning his head to the side, luring Tony in again. It was a few moments before he managed to struggle free and trot off towards their bedroom. Tony stretched out on the couch, feeling calm and safe again for the first time since he’d set off for Germany.

Tony heard the _tap tap_ of Steve’s bare feet on the hardwood and looked up to see him reappear with a sketchbook in his arms. He tossed the open sketchbook on Tony’s chest, then perched on the arm of the sofa opposite, watching. Tony flipped it over and sat up to look.

The sketchbook was open to a section Steve had been using to plan his final project. The majority of the page was taken up with scratchy, angled lines - what looked to be a wide view of a street in Brooklyn coming together, old style apartment blocks crammed close on either side of a long road, and the beginnings of the Manhattan Bridge stretching behind them. There were several different perspectives tested as well, but they had all been angrily scribbled out. 

In the corner was another, smaller sketch, the lines distinctly darker. It took Tony a second to realise he was looking at a tiny 2D version of himself, perched on a stool and laughing at DUM-E. His graphite fingers were stretched out to brush over the bot’s strut, while DUM-E made what seemed to be a valiant attempt to stack blocks spelling out his own name on Tony’s workbench. 

Tony was startled to realise he remembered that moment, albeit from a different perspective, as one of the times Steve had come over to avoid his roommates while the bots were feeling particularly attention seeking. Looking at the drawing itself, Tony noticed that, in contrast to the scrapped sketch where the lines had been shaky, sketchy and light, here, the lines were straight, sure, as if he were something the artist was used to drawing, knew how to approach without much thought. Tony tried to imagine Steve sketching him enough to be this confident drawing his face, and wondered how many of these small, carefree sketches Steve might have hidden.

“That’s when I knew,” Steve said, his voice small, somehow unsure. “I drew that and looked at it and I wanted it forever.”

Tony wanted to look up and meet Steve’s eye but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the sketch. It was so simple - not really a special moment in any discernible way, it had passed him by with barely a thought - but he looked at the strong, even pencil lines, and he got it, he could feel it. Finally, he tore his gaze away to find Steve watching him with barely-disguised anticipation. Tony tossed the sketchbook gently on the floor and opened his arms. Steve flew into them, landing on Tony’s chest with a huff.

“I love you,” he said into the fabric of Tony’s shirt, sure now. And he’d said it earlier, but that was the first time he’d  _ said it,  _ and Tony was so filled with warm, breathless  _ something  _ that all he could do was clutch Steve as tightly to him as he possibly could. 

If they had forever ahead of them - and Tony desperately hoped that they did - he had all the time in the world to try his hardest to live up to the title of the red and gold canvas that hung, still crooked, on the wall downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left! :D


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“If I hadn’t started painting, I would have raised chickens.”- Grandma Moses_

Tony’s fingers dug into the edge of the table, and he tossed his head back, tipping his closed eyes towards the ceiling. “Holy shit, Steve. Don't stop.”

Steve hummed pleasantly around Tony’s cock, tightening his grip on his thighs and sliding down until his nose hit his stomach. Tony gripped the table even tighter, pressing his ass against it hard enough to bruise to stop himself from fucking into Steve’s hot, wet mouth. Not that Steve wouldn’t like that - Tony just wasn’t ready for this to be over.

Steve pulled back until only the head of Tony’s cock was between his lips and swirled his tongue around it. Tony dropped his chin back down and snapped his eyes open. It was an image that would stay with him for a long time. “You’re so filthy,” he said and watched Steve’s eyes heat, fixed on his. “So good at that. I’d keep you here with your mouth around my cock foreve- JESUS CHRIST, BRUCE!” 

Bruce yelped and spun, snapping his hand over his eyes. “Oh god, I just came down to borrow your pliers, holy shit, no amount of bleach in the world…” Bruce kept muttering to himself while Steve sprung to his feet and Tony hurriedly and painfully shoved himself back in his pants and zipped up. 

“A little warni- Oh for Christ’s sake, Bruce, we’re decent now you can stop whimpering.” Bruce turned back around, cheeks aflame, and peered through his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see Steve, staring pointedly at the floor, and Tony knew it wasn’t because he was embarrassed, he was trying desperately not to laugh. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“This is your  _ workshop,  _ Tony, not a sex dungeon, I didn’t know I needed to ring the bell. You have a glass door.” Bruce’s voice cracked with discomfort.

“Speaking of sex dungeons, you probably don’t want to go through the door at the back of the library, just saying,” Tony said. Steve half-snorted then pressed his lips together even tighter. He was turning an interesting shade of purple. “Anyway… we have pressing matters -” Tony shifted uncomfortably in his too tight pants “- to attend to, so take whatever tools you want and remind me to program JARVIS with some kind of alert.”

Bruce shook his head. “Oh no, don’t worry. I’m never going anywhere in this tower again without an air horn announcing my presence. And a blindfold.” He eyed the table. “And lysol.”

Tony shoved Steve ahead of him as he barrelled out of the room and into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed Steve exploded into laughter, arms wrapped around his sides as if he was afraid his ribs might burst. Tony pouted. “I have no idea what you find so funny, you just got caught too.”

_ “Your face!”  _ Steve all but sobbed.

“At least my face isn’t the one covered in dick,” Tony snapped back, which only made Steve laugh harder. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the elevator, waiting until Steve calmed down enough to pull breath and wipe his eyes. And as embarrassed and annoyed as he was, Tony still watched, made sure those breaths were sure and deep, because as much as he loved watching Steve break down laughing, it was one of those things almost sure to bring on an asthma attack. “Need your inhaler?” he asked lightly, when Steve could speak again.

Steve shook his head. “No, but I really hope JARVIS has a recording of that.”

“You perv.” Tony glared at him. “This is all your fault you know. You‘re the one who was all ‘ooh Tony, they’re so cute, let’s let all the Avengers live at the tower like a bunch of ravenous stray cats.’ And how am I supposed to say no to those eyes?” He gestured towards Steve, who grinned.

“It so wasn’t my idea.” Steve protested. Tony shot him a look. “If it was at all, it was only a very small amount my idea. It was maybe twelve percent my idea - at most - and the rest was all you. You’re the one who thinks they’re cute. I’m pretty sure your exact words were ‘but they have nowhere else to go.’”

“Twel- what?” Tony scoffed. “JARVIS, I need recordings from June 17th, around, say 2pm to 4pm and -” The elevator doors chose that moment to open, and Steve hooked a finger in Tony’s belt loop and dragged him into the penthouse, derailing his line of thought.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Steve said. “Poor Dr. Banner - who I am still sufficiently jealous of, don’t worry - is the one traumatized for life. You got a blow job.”

“I got twelve percent of a blow job.”

“Well.” Steve spun him until they were chest to chest and started backing Tony up towards the bedroom. “Guess, we’ll have to rectify that.”

“On one condition.”

Steve stopped and cocked an eyebrow.

Tony raked his eyes over Steve’s body, letting it catch on all his favourite places. “The blow job accrued interest.”

Steve grinned and drove Tony back again, faster this time. Tony let himself be led until the back of his knees hit the bed then he stopped, firm. Steve’s whole body language shifted, sensing the change in Tony. His hands softened and trailed down from Tony’s arms to his stomach, curling into the fabric of his shirt. His chin tipped down while his eyes tipped up, catching Tony’s gaze, pupils blown black. He shifted his hips forward until he leaned against Tony’s thigh, letting Tony take his weight, and take control. And Tony snapped.

Because that moment, that moment never failed to make Tony fall a little more in love, lose a little more of himself to Steve. Steve gave to him so easily. His fierce warrior artist let all his defenses fall and trusted Tony to catch what was behind them. Tony grabbed him around the waist and twisted hard, catapulting him onto the bed and landing on top. He could feel Steve’s erection grinding into his thigh - he’d probably been hard since he first put Tony’s cock in his mouth. 

He needed to get his hands on Steve, all over Steve, right now, or whatever tenuous string of sanity he had left was going to be obliterated.

_ “Tony, Tony, Tony,”  _ Steve repeated, as if it was the only answer he would ever need to whatever question was asked of him.

“I’ve got you,” Tony murmured. He stripped Steve out of his clothes roughly, tossing them to the floor and worshipping each new inch of skin their removal revealed. Steve’s legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him close so he could run his palms reverently over Tony’s chest, pausing to circle the arc reactor. His eyes flicked up to meet Tony’s again. Tony slowed, stilled, smiled. “I love you so much.”

A brilliant smile bloomed across Steve’s face. He ground his hips into Tony’s and it morphed into a smirk, his eyes bright. “Show me how much.”

Tony hooked both his thighs and pulled him to the edge of the bed. He slipped his hand behind Steve’s balls, pausing to rub the pad of his thumb across the sensitive skin there, making Steve jump and gasp. There was a bottle of lube still lying on the mussed sheets from that morning’s fun, and Tony grabbed it and slicked his fingers. He ran his fingertip around Steve’s rim, teasing him, pushing him in the tiniest amount, then pulling back. 

Steve groaned and sunk into the sheets, throwing an arm over his face, but Tony pushed it away. “Let me see you.” Steve blinked at him, lip caught between his teeth, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. “Beautiful.” Tony pushed his finger in again, crooking it, then pulling back, and Steve’s mouth fell open in a silent moan, releasing his lip, pink and wet from being chewed and from being wrapped around Tony’s cock only moments before.

Tony leaned down and sucked Steve’s nipple between his teeth, worrying it then soothing with his tongue after. “Fuck, Tony,” Steve whined. Steve ground forward against Tony’s palm and Tony added a second finger, giving into Steve’s silent plea for more. “Ah, yes,” he breathed out.

Tony started fucking Steve with his fingers, brushing past his prostate every time he drew back. Deeply uncomfortable, Tony popped the button on his jeans and freed his cock again, gasping when the cool air hit the still-damp skin. He pushed his pants to the floor and descended on Steve, nibbling his way up his chest back to his pink, irritated nipple. He bit down and sucked and reveled in every squirm and shift and gasp under him. Tony got his free arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in close, drawing a line of harsh kisses up to the dip of his throat. His cock rubbed against the inside of Steve’s thigh, and he curled his fingers inside him, imagining that slick warmth surrounding his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Tony murmured into Steve’s neck. “I love you so much. I want to watch you fall apart all day, every day. I’ll never get over that you trust me with this, with you. Never.”

Steve moaned, his hands scrabbling uselessly against Tony’s stomach, delicate fingers brushing over Tony’s skin and leaving heated trails behind them. Tony watched his face, his eyes, the way his mouth fell open into a perfect “o” and knew exactly when he was ready, when he was going to break and sob and beg if he didn’t get Tony inside him immediately. Tony pushed it right up to Steve’s edges, then pulled his fingers away and pushed deep inside instead.

And, god, that first slide would never stop being the breath-stealing, heart-stopping, world-is-ending-gather-two-of-every-animal moment for Tony. That first push into Steve’s body, all hot and wet and begging for him, drawing him in like Steve wasn’t complete without Tony filling him up - that was it. Tony hung there for a moment, buried deep, face pressed to Steve’s neck where he was curled beneath him, against him, safe, held. 

Then Steve whined, high and needy, and Tony rocked back and pushed forward again. Steve let out a long breath and relaxed into Tony’s rhythm, going limp in Tony’s arms save for his hands, still dancing and pawing and stroking over Tony’s chest. Tony hooked both of his hands over Steve’s upper thighs, face still pressed to his favourite place, breathing in Steve and tasting soft skin and sweat and feeling the heat that radiated off Steve against his cheek. Using the new leverage, Tony pulled Steve dangerously close to the edge of the bed, holding his hips up and manhandling him into the perfect angle to fuck him relentlessly, pounding against his prostate with every snap of his hips.

Steve broke into a litany of half-curses and cracked moans and Tony’s name - Tony’s name over and over. Every sigh, every plea, and every fucking  _ Tony  _ filled Tony’s chest with fierce need, possession - primal, urgent  _ claim.  _ Steve curled in against his chest, so pliant and giving that Tony felt a little dizzy in the face of it. He folded Steve nearly in half on the edge of the bed, bracing his feet against the carpet and slamming into him over and over. Steve whimpered, shaking now, eyes squeezed shut, and Tony snapped a hand between Steve’s legs to wrap tightly around his cock, stroking him roughly in time with his thrusts. 

Steve’s legs tightened around Tony’s hips, squeezing painfully, then releasing, his feet scrambling for purchase on Tony’s back. “Come on, baby, come for me,” Tony whispered in Steve’s ear, letting the hot puff of air caress the side of his neck.

“Oh fuck,” Steve whined, his whole body going tightrope taut, then breaking into a full body shudder as he came hard, his inner muscles rippling around Tony’s cock. 

Tony tried to fuck him through it but his own orgasm slammed into him out of nowhere, and he clutched a still shaking Steve against him and pulsed as deep in his ass as he could be, arms wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, holding on for dear life.

He didn’t pull away, easing his hold so Steve could breathe but keeping him clutched to his chest. When Steve’s little noises had relaxed into steady breathing, Tony guided him further back onto the bed and rolled them so they were on their sides, chest to chest, Steve’s legs still wrapped around Tony’s waist. 

“I trust you with  _ everything,”  _ Steve mumbled into his chest, half asleep already.

Tony held him close and watched as Steve drifted off to sleep, exhausted, happy, sated. And he had a sudden flashback to ten months ago, walking into a gallery he had no interest in, to throw around money that didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. It was surreal, thinking that a year ago he didn’t know Steve, had never had this in his life. But now he was sure he couldn’t live without it. 

He tapped a finger on the front cover of the arc reactor. When it had attempted to kill him, he’d tried everything, he really had, before SHIELD came through, but he didn’t feel like he’d  _ fought  _ to live. He’d gone through the list, tried to work the problem the same way he fixed the icing and the balance issues on the suit. It was hardware, and it was failing, so he worked the problem.

But losing his life when he failed… it hadn’t really registered at the time. He was resigned to it. He didn’t want to die - of course not - but he hadn’t fought. And it wasn’t until now, holding Steve in his arms, in his repaired home, with his new, crazy family, that he realized he would fucking fight tooth and nail for it now. Now he knew what it was like to have something to come home for, to work for, to fight for. Now he had something to live for.

“I love you,” he murmured in Steve’s ear, as he tucked them closer together. But Steve was already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank so much for reading everyone! We both love this verse so so much and we hope you like it too! Thank you to everyone who kudosed, commented, bookmarked, or hit us up on tumblr. THERE’S STILL SO MUCH MORE! We’re taking one (maybe two) weeks off and then there will be a short, smutty interlude. After that, another week off, and then we’ll begin posting Book 2 “Some Form of Electricity” which we are SO EXCITED FOR! If you’d like to keep up to date, follow us on tumblr or sub to the Art is Long series. Thanks again everyone <3 <3 <3 - Ferret & Sap

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please feel free to come visit us on tumbly: [sirsapling](http://sirsapling.tumblr.com) and [FestiveFerret](http://festiveferret.tumblr.com)


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